


it never fades

by samsaa



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Ed Swears, Everybody Hurts, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Alphonse Elric, Hurt Edward Elric, Murder, No Fluff, No Smut, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, author cannot taggggggg, is it illegal to change the title, wait I take back parental roy he is not parental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsaa/pseuds/samsaa
Summary: The Fullmetal Alchemist was known to never kill.(key word: was.)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye & Winry Rockbell
Comments: 33
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Mustang stepped forward to help the boy, he let out an agonizing choke of pain, and froze. His pupils contracted in shock. 
> 
> There was a crunch of metal as his automail leg locked, and he fell, leaving a splatter of blood.

Dark. Scattered papers. Overturned furniture. At the end of the light cast from the doorway, a suit of armor, dull and shadowed, sat against the wall as if he was shot in the chest.

That was how Roy Mustang and his lieutenant found the Elric brothers’ dorm.

Roy took quick steps across the room and crouched in front of Alphonse.

“Alphonse. Tell me what happened.” he spoke solemnly.

The voice in response was faintly reverberating, low. “Brother… left to search for Winry.”

A dark glove points to the table.

Roy turned and strode over to see a note. It was ripped and scrunched violently.

In a messy, grinding scrawl, it said:

They hurt her.

Roy’s brows furrowed. Why would Fullmetal leave such a note-

_Oh._

“Lieutenant!”

She nods. “Sir.” Hawkeye rushes out of the room to get the car started.

Roy turns to Alphonse, who was now covering his head in his hands. He gives a gentle tap on the shoulder, then runs to catch Hawkeye. He does not have spare time.

Edward was about to do something that he doesn't want his brother to see.

***

The car jolted at full speed not a second after Roy jumped in.

“Do we know exactly where we’re going?”

“I contacted the team to gather military eyewitnesses, sir. He should be at an abandoned warehouse at the Lanberg Street, approximately fifteen blocks southwest.”

Fifteen blocks?

Whoever took her must have wanted him to come quickly. Especially if they had physically harmed her.

She only arrived yesterday… who could tell how much they knew.

Roy focused on analyzing the situation, not wanting to know what was, or had, been done to the child. Hawkeye’s abrupt twists and brakes did not help with the uneasiness in his chest. He glanced at the lieutenant. Her face appeared calm and collected. But he saw her panic. Her eyes had a darkness to them- both murderous intent and dread. Winry was family to her.

The trip was not a long one.

They leap out, Hawkeye immediately gunpointing the surroundings before heading to backup Roy, who dashed toward the entrance. She almost bumps into him, he stopped so abruptly. Hawkeye turned to see what he witnessed.

She barely stopped her gasp.

Yellow barn light illuminated the scene. It was dusty, and smelled like gunpowder. And blood.

There was a crater-like impact in the center of the dirt floor. Blood was smeared all over.

At least a dozen men sprawled across the floor of the warehouse, stained crimson. Riza was not sure whether they were still breathing.

Winry was seated in a broken chair. A chopped rope lay next to her. Cuts and bruises marked her limbs and face, but seeing the state of her clothing and the tension she held in her body, nothing much worse had happened. Her flooding eyes, however, were traumatized as nobody had ever seen before.

Standing in the light, steel glinting, was Edward. He stood with his back to the entrance. Blood dripped from his hanging flesh arm, where the blood dripped, sucked into the ground in dark spots. His automail arm held a gigantic man by his collar, terrified to his core. He whimpered, bleeding heavily and shaking.

“P….please… I beg mercy of you-”

Promptly, Edward tossed the man to the side, leaving a crash of dust. He calmly transmuted his arm into a blade, walking over to the shaking body.

Roy saw that Edward was practically blind. Oblivious to all else except himself and that man. He knew that he needed to do something- but what? Set the guy in flames and kill him? Distract Edward?

No. Nothing would stop him now.

The man couldn’t move. He lay slightly on his side, arm weakly bent to defend himself. His pupils shook, and his eyes filled with tears.

Edward’s face was hidden in his bangs as he stood next to the man. 

Roy’s eyes immediately widened.

“FULLMETAL-”

Winry screamed. “ED, NO-”

Slash.

The man no longer shook.

There was a deafening silence. The lamplight of the warehouse blinked.

Roy spoke.

“Edward.”

Ed whipped his head around. His eyes were golden shards- filled with hatred and murder and vicious brutality. Overflowing.

With the Colonel’s voice he seemed to snap back to reality, flinching as if in shock.

He looks at the man’s body and gasps, shakily stepping away.

“I- I…”

He shook violently, fingers crawling towards his temple. Blood stained his messied bangs as he clutched them. He staggered back as his knees weakened under him. Ed slowly lowered his head, gasping for breath, eyes traumatized. Tears dropped rapidly from his face, sparkling in the light.

"No- no, no, no,,..." He pleaded as his breathing grew more frantic.

Just as Mustang stepped forward to help the boy, he let out an agonizing choke of pain, and froze. His pupils contracted in shock. 

There was a crunch of metal as his automail leg locked, and he fell, leaving a splatter of blood.

Winry screamed as Roy and Hawkeye rushed over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the terrible writing (first work). 
> 
> But if you might stick around, that will mean the world to me.
> 
> Again, thank you. 
> 
> *Please leave constructive criticism if you feel compelled to do so~*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Colonel! Will Ed be alright?” 
> 
> Roy turns, seeing a desperate and frantic girl. He gives her a grim smile and somewhat of a nod- he himself was too uncertain.

Seeing that Roy was already rushing to the boy, Hawkeye went to help Winry. 

She crouched in front of the girl, and immediately scanned her body to survey further injuries. 

Legs- some spots, a large gash below the knee- but still skin level. 

Arms and upper body- small scrapes, a large punch to the abdomen- checks safe, no internal bleeding.

There was a large bruise on the left side of her face- probably a violent punch against her struggle. 

Winry’s large blue eyes, even when gazing towards the ground, were almost scarily bright in fear. Her breath was unsteady. Her usually level-headed and intelligent mind was frantically grasping at the traumatic experience at the same time it was comprehending the current situation. 

There was more that had happened to her. She was usually a tough spirit- but the girl was downright _terrified_. 

Right now, she needs support.

Carefully, the woman taps Winry’s shoulder. The girl flinches but accepts the touch, eyes still on the ground. She puts her hand on her other shoulder- almost like a question- to which Winry nods. She carefully raises her head, and is met with a reassuring, welcoming gaze of deep brown eyes. Gently, Riza grips Winry in a warm embrace. 

Lemon-colored, long hair shook in sobs. The lieutenant smelled of gunpowder, metal- _comfort._

She was safe. 

Feeling the girl’s frailty, Riza almost burned with blinding rage, and an overwhelming desire to help her somehow.

  
  


Roy knelt on the other side of the warehouse next to Edward. He lay on his stomach, putting his flesh arm under and the automail resting on the ground. His front was never shown. 

So nothing would have indicated what Roy was about to see when he laid the boy on his back. 

The crater explained the mess of bone and flesh that just barely missed his vital organs. An explosion. There was a knife stab on his left shoulder. Many slices and bruises battered his torso and some on his face, from the onslaught of taking on about fifteen grown men at once. Probably more on his flesh leg. 

Roy was right. Ed was literally in a blind craze. 

“Hawkeye! Ambulance, now!” 

“Yes, sir!” 

She gives Winry the quickest grip, then rushes off. 

Roy needed to act quickly, this amount of bleeding can’t be safe. The adrenaline will also wear off soon- fainting is not a permanent pain blocker. Ed’s most likely going to have a panic attack once he wakes, a few minutes at most. He will have to resort to burning if the loss gets too bad.

He tears up his jacket, wound it in a way that could hold the bones and flesh together. For now, compression.

“Colonel! Will Ed be alright?” 

Roy turns, seeing a desperate and frantic girl. He gives her a grim smile and somewhat of a nod- he himself was too uncertain.

*** 

The medics arrived much faster than expected. Thankfully, Ed did not wake up before they gave him anesthetics. 

The military recognized the men as a smaller branch of a larger association- one that had been targeted by the country for years. These men had definitely been ordered by the authority of that group. 

The colonel spent half an hour calling Alphonse as well as his subordinates on the situation, who all without command went straight to his office. With regard to Winry and the lieutenant, Roy drove off to the brothers’ dorm to talk to Alphonse. The pitch-black gaze had white, unforgiving fire. 

  
  


Winry went to stay at Hawkeye’s for the night. At the lieutenant’s request, Gracia Hughes and her daughter visited. The mother was all warmth and safety to Winry, and seeing little Elicia doze off in her sleep comforted her deeply. 

She woke up in the middle of the night to warmth, blankets, and soft moonlight from the window. Her worry for Ed had kept her up for a long while, and considering what had happened just a few hours ago, she wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. 

In the corner of the room she saw Riza sitting on a stool. Although it was dark, Winry knew she was holding a handgun. Her expression held seething anger. A lethality, she recognized, that Riza had towards anyone who would hurt her loved ones. 

Catching her glance, the lieutenant’s tension dissipated instantly. Embracing dark eyes were like chocolate in the moonlight- those of an invincible, powerful protector. 

“You should sleep. Your body needs it right now. Besides, you’d want to be there tomorrow to let Ed know you’re safe.” 

Winry smiled, and nodded. Silently, she pulled her covers over her head. 

  
_Safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm doing the characters justice... I'll keep revising and taking suggestions if and when I get them. 
> 
> Alphonse focus next chapter. 
> 
> Again, thank you *so much* for reading. And please leave constructive criticism against my horrible writing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I could hear her getting hit. Telling them to stop. To not touch her . The bastards told me to hurry if I didn’t want them to steal her. THEY THOUGHT IT WAS A FUCKING JOKE. ” 
> 
> Flaming golden eyes looked up. They were fire.
> 
> Lethal, angry, murderous fire.

The past hour until the colonel called was hellish for Alphonse. 

Even in normal circumstances he worried a lot for his brother. The hypothetical scenarios relentlessly bursting in his mind were verging on paranoia. And Winry was hurt- _why her?_

In the midst of it all, there was a dark, dark pitch of unbudging, hollowing _uselessness_. 

Alphonse always does his absolute best to help. Everyone sees it. The way he would stay up for months on end for research, come up with vital connections and innovations for the leads, mediate a conflict that his older brother started- he was the left to his brother’s right. He channeled just as much, if not more, energy and brilliance into their beliefs and goals. Without Alphonse’s character, the Elric brothers could not be complete.

But Alphonse himself doesn’t think of this at all. 

He feels like a giant burden. He isn’t even in the military, and yet he gets to talk freely with people like Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang. Not to mention how well they treat him. 

He notices how flashy his brother acts, partially to take attention away from the body that Alphonse loathes so. He knows everyone thinks he supports Ed, but really, it’s the opposite. 

Ed could do on his own- but what could Alphonse do without him? 

All this was a constant stream that he could not possibly talk to anyone about.

Because what would they say? _“No, you’re not.” “Don’t think like that.” “You’re just as important to Ed as he is to you.”_

And what could that possibly do to help. 

And in this case, what could _he_ possibly do to help? 

Winry and Ed were hurting. They were in danger. But even if he were to go, he was too late. He can’t protect them. From the pain, or the people, or anything else. He can’t even treat them. 

“ _If I could do something, something-”_

Wallowing in loathing, worry, and devastation, Alphonse spent his time holding his head in his hands, listening to the clock tick. 

He was at the phone with the first ring. 

“Hello?” 

“Al. This is the colonel.” 

“How is Brother? Winry? Were they alright?”

“Winry is safe. She had minor injuries, but nothing physically otherwise. Although, I do suspect to some degree that something else must have happened… For now, she’s at Hawkeye’s. They called Gracia and Elicia Hughes over there as well, so I think she’ll be fine.” 

“...And Brother?” 

“...Well. He seemed to have been in a fighting craze- he had injuries that he couldn’t have sustained otherwise. The medics arrived before anything else got worse, though. We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

“...”

“Al, Ed’s very strong. You know he can-”

“I know that more than anyone, sir. I believe in my brother.”

“...Was there anything else I could do?” 

“N-no, I’m glad Winry’s safe. Who were they?” 

A deep breath came on over the speaker- as if he was trying to contain his anger. “A dozen or so men. All of them around age thirty and combat trained. They were involved in a larger organization we’ve been tracking down over several years. The crew volunteered to start the investigation already, so I’ll be heading there soon.”

“I’ll go, too.” 

“Al--this is a military investigation. We cannot involve civilians.”

“I know that that doesn’t apply, colonel.” 

A silence. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you for everything, sir.”

He placed the phone back.

Al wasted no time getting to the office. If there was anything he could do to help with, it was with this tireless body. This cursed shell of a body. 

***

Mustang’s squadron was, at the moment, the busiest department in Central. The whole crew (besides the lieutenant) was seated, jotting down notes, going through files, receiving intercom from other parts of the country. Fortunately, since this was the first lead the military had on the association for a while, they were permitted unlimited use of resources. 

Colonel Mustang sat at his desk on the phone, eyes more serious than Alphonse had ever seen him at work. Intense. 

And perhaps, a part of him was distracting his worries as well.

Al waited until the call hung up. Mustang immediately thanked him for coming, and gave him directions. The suit of armor merely nodded before digging relentlessly into work. 

For the next few hours, not a single conversation escaped the men, other than 4-word instructions and brief formalities over the calls. Everyone knew that worrying was useless- all they could do to help was _here_ and _now_. 

The clock had ticked two past midnight when Mustang received a call from the clinic, saying that Ed was safe. 

There was a brief, almost collective release of tension with the announcement, before they resumed their work moments later. 

*** 

By sunrise, everyone had fallen asleep on the spot besides Alphonse, who only looked up as golden light hit his pen. 

The clock pointed seven AM- perhaps he should head for the hospital. 

“Go ahead. We’ll catch up with you later.” 

A gentle, sleepy voice turned Al to the colonel. His arms were folded, head sunk into his chest. 

Al whispered a gentle “thank you” before quietly closing the door to leave. 

*** 

The smell of hospital facilities, disinfectant, and odorless sheets were all too familiar to Edward as he woke up. He just lay there, perfectly calm and steady, organizing his current circumstances as well as last night’s events. He knew Winry was safe. He would ask just in case, but if he had really _done that_ … 

She was safe. 

Ed sat up, wincing as he felt the stitches and stretched flesh. He glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. 

Al would be the first one to visit, naturally. He would have to break it to him. 

Just then, the door to the room opened. 

“Brother!” 

There was a ruckus of clashing metal as Al sat down by Ed’s side.

Ed did not look up. His face was grimly expressionless. 

_He was not the same anymore._

“Brother, I heard you were injured, but not _this much-”_

“Al.”

His younger brother paused.

“Is Winry safe?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s staying at Lieutenant’s.” 

“That’s good.” Ed’s head lowered. 

Complete silence wavered over the two. 

“Brother… There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His older brother flinched slightly. 

“It’s obvious! What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

Ed still didn't look up. His bangs shadowed his face. 

“Tell me what happened.” 

“...”

Ed took a small breath, then started talking.

“There was a call. They wanted information about alchemy- array-less alchemy. Nobody even familiar in alchemy would ask that. Clearly, they were just power-hungry bastards. So I refused at first, but then- I heard Winry.”

“She was crying for help, not for you or me, but for _anyone_ . She was telling them to _stop_.”

Al’s soul skipped a beat. Ed’s voice was beginning to tremble. 

“I could hear her getting _hit. Telling them to stop. To not touch her_ . The bastards told me to hurry if I didn’t want them to _steal her. THEY THOUGHT IT WAS A FUCKING JOKE._ ” 

Flaming golden eyes looked up. They were _fire_ . Lethal, angry, murderous _fire._ Al took his hand, afraid he would break his fingers if he didn’t have something else to clench. 

“I didn’t know what I was going to do. I got there-- and she was gagged- roped- and I--- I couldn’t hear or see anything anymore. I couldn’t feel _anything,, and I-”_

Tears streamed down his face. Ed covered his eyes with his hands. Trying to unsee it. Forget it. Do anything to stop him from seeing- _knowing-having done that thing._

Bulging eyes. Pooled blood. Mouths, hanging open. 

The morbidity, dread, guilt and utter realization of- 

Death. 

Death that he had caused. 

_“I KILLED THEM. I MURDERED. I SLICED THEM WITH MY GODDAMN HAND-”_

Ed began to shake, tears still pouring down his face, staring at his automail hand. Eyes wide, lost. He began grinding the steel knuckles into his flesh hand, tearing the skin of his palms. 

“Brother, calm down! No-stop- what are you doing?!” 

“ _Look- Al- I have fucking blood on my hands. I ended their lives. They’re not breathing anymore, because of me. They had families. They had lives. I used the automail Winry made for me to end lives.”_

He put his flesh hand on his face once again. _It was over. He spilled blood. He had killed. He was no longer the person he used to be. He will never be._

  
  


_The world is different now._

  
  


Al could not do anything but to sit with Ed while he sobbed silently.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like other people can write my own story far better than I can, heheh. 
> 
> I've been able to look at the characters more objectively, though, which is alright (I guess) especially since my goal is to make it as close to the real thing as possible. 
> 
> Thank you, so much, for reading yet another crappy chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching the conversation, Al thought, they seemed so tired. The gravity of last night was still sinking in the air, still breaking both of them. So many emotions they try to bottle up, that could spill out and destroy them any moment.
> 
> And still, all they do is try to cheer the other up. 

The sun had already arched over the sky when Colonel Mustang picked up Alphonse’s call. 

“Hello, this is Colonel Roy Mustang.” He answered roughly. 

“Hello, Colonel.” Alphonse’s voice was somewhat weaker, drained. 

“Al.” The colonel sat up. “How’s Edward?”

There was a pause. “Brother… couldn’t take in his actions. I sat with him until he was done, and he’s sleeping now… I’m not sure if he can handle a lot of people at once right now.” 

“I see..” 

“Um… Colonel, can I be honest?” 

“What reason is there to hesitate, Alphonse?”

“...I know Brother best. All our lives we’ve only had each other to rely on. We’ve been through so much… But this is something that I don’t know how to deal with.”

Roy was shocked- and then, surprised that he was shocked. They were _boys_. Fifteen and fourteen. Manslaughter, even with everything that they had witnessed, was too complicated, mature, to deal with on their own. 

Especially for souls as goodhearted and innocent as theirs. 

White gloves rubbed against his temple. “Right. Alphonse, can you contact Izumi Curtis?”

“I don’t think Ed would want to see Teacher for now.”

“Then- perhaps Major Armstrong-”

“Colonel. I mean you.” 

This time, Roy was shocked. _Him?_ He resisted the urge to gawk at the phone.

The boys were independent. They’d drop back only for the occasional missions and updates for the Stone. They would come back with wounds they acquired elsewhere, always climbing over and resolving enormous emotional hurdles on their own. Practically every sign of weakness, growth, was hidden from Roy and the rest of the adults. 

The thought that Edward might even remotely need his help was absurd. He was only thought of as _Colonel Bastard._

“Alphonse, I think it would be better if it wasn’t me.”

“No. Brother needs you right now. He’s always immature and rude, but he has respect towards you the most. He- both of us- look up to you as someone who has really dealt with life. Things that we don’t know of, yet.”  
It was shock after shock. _Colonel Bastard_ , and _respect?_ Was Alphonse really in his right mind? 

“That’s why we need your assistance. As a veteran of both killing and war- even though I hate saying so this way.” 

Roy wasn’t the least offended- in a way, this was one of the highest forms of flattery he had ever received. Even without it, though, he wouldn’t hesitate. 

“I’ll see to it that I will get to you whenever you need.”

“Thank you, so much.” 

“Right now, though, I need to get back to the investigation. Watch over Ed for now. Call me again when you think the time is right.” 

“Thank you.” 

Roy hung up. He looked down at his gloves. Marked with the arrays meant for nothing other than to kill, end life, _halt injustice for the behalf of the people._

Since when was it like this? Since when had he accepted that he was a mere killing machine- and had been able to live with that fact? 

What was it like before the heavy stone wings of death hung over his back?

He sat like that for a moment before resuming to work. 

*** 

Alphonse could say, with sound conviction, that this was the right thing to do. 

He stared through the doorway of Ed’s room, where his brother lay with his flesh arm over his face. Nobody had bothered with his hair, so it lay in its braid, but so weak it could fall apart. His left forearm was so pale- like the white bandages- and the sheets- and his hair- and the room- that ironically, the only thing making him seem alive was his steel arm, still transmuted into a blade from the past night. His gown was bloodied from his grazed palms, so it was being washed for the time being. His compact and slender body, packed with bandages, was exposed to the air. 

How is it that he seemed so strong, and yet, so vulnerable? 

Alphonse sat in the hallway outside the door, thinking. He looked up as he heard a certain footstep. He would recognize that sound anywhere. 

“Winry!” he called. 

She had a patch of gauze over her face, and some small bandages scattered her arms. Her hair was washed gently, put in her usual ponytail. Her eyes, though they showed no fatigue with consecutive all-nighters working on automail, were indisputably tired. 

Al noticed her manner was different too. Usually her arms and legs moved freely in the space around her, but now, they were- _conserved_. Smaller strides, clasped hands at the front. 

“Are you alright? Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Winry smiled- more grimaced. Genuine, but hurt. “How’s Ed?”

“He’s sleeping right now, but I think you can sit with him for a little bit.” 

Alphonse paused. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?”

“For not- being able to protect you.”

“Oh, Al. You know very well you did nothing wrong.” She stepped up quietly to hug the suit of armor.

As gently as possible, Al hugged back. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Winry shook her head profusely. 

They stood there for a few moments- in a warmthless hug. 

When they separated, she cocked her head to the entrance. “Mind if I head in?” 

“Of course.” 

Winry’s expression darkened at the sight of Ed. Quietly she clasped her mouth with her palm. She stood there, trying to choke back sobs. 

Al didn’t ask why, he already knew.  
“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“He’s hurt like this because of _me_. I’m so weak, and he’s so strong- if only I knew how to fight for myself-” 

“No, Winry. I heard from Ed. You were strong.” He put a leather glove on her shoulder. “You were strong.” 

“It’s just-” Winry was starting to cry. “He just looks so _small_.” She dropped her head, Al’s hand still on her shoulder. 

There was a silence before a quiet, dry voice broke through. 

“Who the fuck are you calling small?” 

Winry sort of gasped, then giggled a bit. She wiped her tears with the heels of her hands before walking over. Al saw a small smile under his brother’s arm. Then he headed over, too. 

Ed sat up, grimacing slightly, to reveal sunken eyes. The golden irises still flickered, but not even half as brightly as usual. His eyelids sagged, like everything else- as if a large weight hung over his back. He clapped and transmuted his arm back quickly. 

“You all right, Winry?” 

“Says you, dumbass, you’re the one in bed. Gosh, you look so _short_ in the bandages-” 

A form of his usual irritation took over Ed’s face. “Shut up.” 

A laugh brightened up the room. 

Ed glanced at Al, who sat next to Winry. There was an unspoken look of _thank you_ , and a nod of _you’re welcome_. 

“Al said you spent the night at Lieutenant’s house.” 

“Yeah, she was so kind to me. Ms. Gracia and Elicia were so nice, too.” 

“I can’t imagine having a literal Hawkeye watching over you. How’d you even sleep?” 

“Unlike you, Ed, I don’t need surveillance.” 

“What the hell do you mean by that?” 

Watching the conversation, Al thought, they seemed so tired. The gravity of last night was still sinking in the air, still breaking both of them. So many emotions they try to bottle up, that could spill out and destroy them any moment.

And still, all they do is try to cheer the other up. 

“Hey, Al? You ok, too?” 

Alphonse looked up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.” 

Ed laughed lightly, left eye wincing in a flash of pain. “You should rest, too. Go cuddle a cat.” 

Winry mock-hit his head with her palm. “Hey, stop making fun of Al!” 

Ed turned abruptly. “The hell? I wasn’t!”

“Shut up, beansprout!”

“I’M NOT SHORT!” 

“Calm down, both of you-” 

The conversations went on for awhile. 

If Al could smile, he would. It was almost like before. But not really. 

It was half past one as Winry stood up to leave. “I’m going to go pick up Elicia from school with Ms. Gracia.” 

“Do you have someone to pick you up?” 

Winry nodded to Al. “Ms. Gracia and I promised 13:45.” 

“Oh, okay, bye. Take care.” 

Ed was still mock-sulking-irritated from being called beansprout for a record number of times. “I’ll see you later, you automail nerd.”

Half laughing, Winry called out, “Alchemy nerd!” 

A few moments after Winry left the room, Ed laid back wearily onto his bed. His eyes dimmed to a mere spark. 

He gazes at Al, and smiles for a second before turning to look out the window. “Thanks for being here.” 

Al laughed a little bit. “Why do you thank me, Brother?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno. Just ‘cause.” 

Just then, as Ed’s hand shifted, Alphonse realized that ever since the conversation midway, his older brother hadn’t taken his hand off his side. 

“Brother, are your stitches still alright?”

Ed turned his head. He looks down as he lifts the hand, revealing a stain of blood. “Oh, that.”

“Brother! That’s-” 

He puts his palms behind his back and turns back to the window. “It’ll be alright. They’ll take care of it.” 

Al stared for a moment, but said nothing as he stood up to call a nurse. He wants, more than anything in the world, to take his brother’s pain- but there was just so much he could do. 

***

There were no more visitors after that, and Edward was left alone after he convinced Al to leave and do what he likes. He knew Al wouldn’t do anything besides work on the investigation, but pretended to assume that he would spend some free time to ease his younger brother. 

Ed wanted anything for Al but to be in a room with a murderer.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> making this shit up as I go~  
> la-dee-da~ 
> 
> I saw someone bookmark this story, and it absolutely made my day. I can't understand how people can ditch their works 2 chapters in, with, like, 70 bookmarks and a bajillion kudos. 
> 
> (It probably has to do with my shitty writing, lol.)
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter. I hope, for those who stick around, to bring you my best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization was like a crushing gravity over his soul. He was a monster. 
> 
> “The People’s Alchemist”, and a throat-cutting monster. 

Deep, ridged shadows dimmed golden eyes. Moonlight from the window was cold and unforgiving, all too real. 

Ed laid awake in his bed, despite the fact that he was tired as _fuck._

There really was no other choice, though. If he didn’t stop thinking, he would lose against the hollowing despair. 

His hyperactive mind kept moving around in moral tangents, roadblocks, different lines of thought that he continuously shut down. Ed knew he was trying to be apathetic about it on purpose, and yet he kept running. He wasn’t ready to let go of his- what, old self?- yet. There had to be a scrap of sense to it. There had to be a _reason_ , a validity- but no. 

Everywhere he looked, it was a dead end. He was still hiding from reality, and running from the _why_. 

Because he knew the only answer to the _why_ was his _own nature_. 

Ed violently shook his head. _No._ He wasn’t like them- he wasn’t a murderer- he wasn’t like them, he wasn’t like them, he wasn’t like them, he wasn’t like them- 

_Them?_ Who was _them?_

Images of the colonel and the lieutenant popped up in his head. Who were they, to him? Adults? Murderers? 

No. They were _protectors._ Fighters. 

He looked at his own hands, sins all too prevalent to him. His mistakes on his automail hand. His weaknesses on his left. He was not a protector nor a fighter- just a weak animal- 

A monster. 

He brought the hands up to clutch his bangs as his body shook with sobs. 

Just a weak fucking animal. Too weak to protect without killing, too weak to fight his own ignorant rage. 

_He made Alphonse’s older brother a murderer._

God. Al was so pure, and Ed wanted to just protect him- and Winry- and he _can’t kill people if he wanted to do that for them._

Just as he caught himself with those words, a sudden thought entered his mind. 

_If they weren’t there- would he be okay with it?_

The realization was like a crushing gravity over his soul. He _was_ a monster. 

“The People’s Alchemist”, and a throat-cutting monster. 

***

Another sleepless night lay ahead for Mustang’s office, except this time, nobody was complaining. 

They were getting closer. There were a few leads of individuals with presumed affiliation to the society’s top head. The Lieutenant was going through mountains of files at her apartment, while taking care of Winry. Meanwhile, rest of the squadron scoured through every bit of possible information.

A good two hours passed midnight when Fuery exclaimed. “Nojus Pastelle is a confirmed suspect!” 

Mustang stood up immediately, but was stern. “Evidence, Fuery.” 

His hands shuffled hurriedly over stacks of papers as he spoke. “He-he’s been seen to have visited our suspected locations based on eyewitness reports of the local military. Multiple accounts, but passed through a-as a traveling book salesman. Today he was seen running to one of the locations, and was caught with firearm possession.” 

“Good work, Fuery.” The colonel wasted no time. “Breda, Falman, assist Fuery to track down the suspect. Shift all your current assignments to Alphonse and Havoc. We’ll continue on leads.” 

It was a particularly successful night, as they acquired two more suspects: Filip Čaklais and Arsień Lūsis. 

*** 

  
  


The next morning when Al entered his brother’s room, he was met with a wide grin.

“Yo, Al! Did you get some rest?” 

Alphonse forced a small laugh. “Never mind me, Brother, you look like you need sleep.” 

The circles under his eyes had not left. More concerningly, they were- somewhat vacant. Under the illusion of sunlight, the gold irises looked bright and happy. But Alphonse knew that the brilliance wasn’t coming from his brother at all. 

“Really? God. Winry’s gonna nag me over it later.” He lowered his brows in irritation before smirking. 

They had light talk. Ed nagged on about the terrible nurses and whatnot, while his younger brother listened. They exchanged insights on the investigation, which Ed was convinced Mustang was using for his next promotion. 

Once things had settled, Al decided to get on with the issue. 

“Speaking of Colonel… ”

Ed furrowed. “Yeah? What about him?” 

“... I’m going to call him over tomorrow.”

Ed sat up abruptly, alarmed. “Why?” 

“Brother! You’re going to tear your stitches again!” 

“I don’t care! Why?” Ed’s eyes, though still vacant, pierced a strength. 

“Brother…” Al’s head lowered to look down at his knees. “In any situation, I want to do the best I can to help you, but- this is something different. There’s nothing I can do for you. This isn’t something we can get over together.”

“I don’t know how to help you. Lieutenant’s busy with Winry, and there’s nobody else closer than the Colonel who really knows these things.” 

Edward was about to fight back- but then, Alphonse would resort to clarifying what he meant by “these things”. And neither of them could handle that. 

So he surprised Al by saying, “Just not now. Give me time. A few days… There’s some stuff I need to sort through by myself.” 

Al was honestly expecting much worse, so he was more relieved than concerned. “Okay. I’ll contact him when things get less intense with the investigation.”

They sat in silence. Then Ed broke out, “Hey. Al. Why don’t you go back, too?” 

Al turned. “Brother, it’s not healthy, the amount of time you’re spending by yourself. Someone should be here with you.” 

Ed chuckled. Sort of. “Nah. I’ll be fine. I’m not worried about that- we both have our situations right now, anyways.” 

Alphonse took this as sort of a warning sign. Edward _needed_ to be left alone. It was one of those ambiguous things, where he knew he should worry, but Ed needed alone time, so worrying didn’t help and he didn’t know what to do. He decided to go along with it.

“Okay. I’m talking with an officer soon, so I’ll get some information search done before then.” 

“Got it. See ya, Al.” Ed smiled his empty smile, and waved as Al closed the door. 

Midway through the hall, Al looked back at his brother. 

The heels of his palms were pressed against his eyes, and his body was shaking already. 

Al hesitated, for an agonizing second. But he pretended not to see it and went on with his mission.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was interesting to write. Ed's psyche in the manga and FMAB is so full and complex, so I enjoy thinking about what his inner thought processes, mental dilemmas, and emotional transitions might be like. 
> 
> (Pretty sure I'm like waay off target though, lol.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter and still sticking with the story. I apologize for the short chapter- I'll be back ASAP with (hopefully) more acceptable content.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t -” She was full-on sobbing. 
> 
> “You don’t have to try so hard. There’s nothing to hide anymore. Just spit it out. Whatever you’ve been hiding. Whatever’s been hurting you.”

While her supervisor was an expert at coming up with distractions, Hawkeye was a master at balancing her worries. 

Specifically, she knew what her concerns were and labeled them carefully as to not hurt the people she would eventually have to deal them with. 

The investigation was just paperwork scanning- her mind was basically on autopilot, working however and whenever she wanted to. She had already shifted her circadian rhythm for 2 hours of sleep per 3 of work. In missions such as these, just in case something happened in any given time, she would be ready to go. 

Otherwise, she had categorized her concerns to 5 general groups. One was the emotional and physical stamina of her team. Especially Fuery and the Colonel, as they were more quickly burned out. The second was Winry’s emotional state and current well-being. Based on her current observations, she was doing well physically- wounds healing at appropriate speed, complexion healthier than before- but it would still take a lot of support for her to be able to stand emotionally stable again. The third was the activity and perspective of the military. For all she’s carefully monitored over the past few days, they were pleased- almost alarmed- to see the progress of the team. But there was always the possibility of that one jealous official who decided to strike a dirty move. She had a few suspects. 

The more serious ones were last. Alphonse was shredding his mental strength. It was not unusual for him to work for tireless hours, but coupled with his brother’s current issues and the fact that he was still fourteen, made for lots of possible problems he was carrying at the moment. 

And Edward. 

She was always astonished with his maturity and wisdom, and capability to hold strong in the darkest situations. But he was the self-blaming type. 

Hawkeye herself was already cold with the act of killing. What needed to be done was done, and if it had to be done to protect others, that was that. 

Edward, however, would never let himself up over this incident. It’s going to manifest as another demon, to chase him until the end of his life. 

It was just one of those things, where one had to experience war and murder and killing for long enough to understand. The boy wasn’t in the military for those. He and his brother just wanted to finish their goal, involving as little people as they can. 

They didn’t plan on having blood on their hands. Or a pile of corpses to stand on. 

She wasn’t going to take any action for these yet, and decided that if she doesn’t need to, she won’t.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” A shy voice peered from the doorway. 

She looked up to a pair of Amestrian sky-blue eyes, and lemon bright hair. “How can I help you, Winry?”

The girl smiled. “Oh, I was just asking if I could go visit Ed.” 

Hawkeye stood up. “Of course. I’ll escort you.” 

Winry looked down for a minute, almost shamefully, before smiling at the lieutenant to say, “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. Anytime.” 

*** 

Winry stared out of the window of the car as they drove over to the clinic. Leaning slightly on the glass, she could feel firm and wiry hair grow cold on her skin. 

She had called Granny about the incident, and let her know that she’ll be staying in Central for a little bit. The woman understood, and told the girl to come back whenever she felt ready. 

But now that she was in Central, she felt useless. She couldn’t do anything to help the lieutenant, or Alphonse, and even if she went to visit Ms. Gracia, the lady wouldn’t let her do any chores. Logically, then, she just kept worrying about the brothers. Especially about Ed. 

He looked so  _ hurt _ . Damaged, and almost as if he couldn’t care less about it. 

Last time something like this happened, it was easier to understand. She could help in ways she knew how, and they were able to get back up and start on a new path. 

Winry sighed quietly, gingerly knowing that she was part of this.

The lieutenant dropped her off, and told Winry to call when she wanted to go back. Winry thanked her gratefully before turning to the entrance. 

The hospital was graced with a warm sunlight, but it seemed cold. There was nothing wrong about anything, there was nothing off, and yet, it was disconcerting.

Ed happened to be sleeping when she entered the room. He lay on his back flat, arms by his side, head slightly facing the wall next to the bed. Trim hospital clothing loosely fit his body. Light from the window hit his hair and jawline, his skin appearing even paler.

It was too calm. 

She sat down next to his bed, and just stared for awhile, watching him sleep. 

After around ten minutes, he woke up. As he sat up he almost jumped at the sight of her just sitting there. Ed scratched the back of his head. “God, Winry, just wake me up, or something. It’s fucking creepy that you were watching me sleep.” 

Winry smirked. “I didn’t want to wake you, it was too rare that you were so quiet for once.” 

Ed narrowed his eyes and mumbled as he grinned, “I wish I should’ve stayed asleep.” 

She continued to mock him as usual, trying to get him back with his usual energy. Somehow, he looked even more tired than yesterday. It downright scared her, how the light in his eyes was dimming out, day by day. It was overwhelming- a rush of “He’s trying so hard,” “He’s so hurt,” and- most of all-

“It’s because of you.” 

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop her tears. 

Ed was shocked- he wasn’t sure what to do- he wasn’t sure what he’d done- “W-what’s wrong? You alright?” 

“Ed.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Just  _ stop _ .” 

Ed was at a complete loss. “Stop?” 

“You don’t -” She was full-on sobbing. “You don’t have to try so  _ hard _ . There’s nothing to hide anymore. Just spit it out. Whatever you’ve been hiding. Whatever’s been hurting you.”

Again, he was shocked. But his eyes lowered. “You’re right. It happened to both of us. ‘s no point in hiding it, is there?” 

Wiping her tears, Winry nodded. 

“Winry. Can I ask you something?”

“What?” 

His bangs hid his face. ”Aren’t you- Don’t you feel uncomfortable being in the room with me?”

“Of course not. Why would you ask me that?”

Ed covered his eyes with his flesh hand. “I- I killed people, you know? I’m a murderer. Don’t you feel sick in the room with me?” 

Winry couldn’t answer. This wasn’t something she’d thought of, at all. She was just worried about his injuries and being angry with herself. It had not even crossed her mind that Ed thought this way. 

“No, I- I was just worried for you-”

“Look.” His voice was dark and sullen. 

Ed clapped, and transmuted his automail into a blade. 

“When I first used alchemy after the transmutation, the first thing I thought of was to make  _ this _ .”

He angled the arm to show Winry without looking at her. 

“My first-  _ instinct _ \- was to make your precious automail into a  _ killing _ thing.” 

He clapped his hands once again. The steel arm went back to normal. 

When he turned to look at her, she saw that he was both smiling, and sobbing. 

“ _ Don’t you see? _ I’m a monster at heart. Tried to transmute human beings, lost his brother’s body, went on a big fucking  _ journey _ to go after something made of tortured, innocent souls. And then- just a couple days ago-  _ I murdered thirteen men. God, I’m a fucking monster. _ ” 

By now, he was shaking with both laughter and tears. Hands over eyes. Hair shaking with the jolts and spasms of his body. 

Winry just wanted to hug him, take all of his pain. “Ed-”

Just then, his sobs began to sound irregular. There was a sickening, broken, quiet choke- of pain. Hands flew to his stomach.

“Ed?!” Winry rushed out the door. “Doctor! Nurse! Someone!” 

Medical staff rushed into the room where Ed bent over, clamping his side. Eyes were wide, and gasps of pain shook his body. The doctor took his stethoscope and examined the boy quickly. He turned to the nearest nurse. “Prep a room, now.” 

Winry was alarmed. “Doctor? What’s happening to Ed?” 

His demeanor was calm but urgent. “His stitches started bleeding from the inside. I take it that you’re his friend?” Winry nodded. “Let his family know we’re doing an emergency surgery.” 

Ed was taken out of the room. Watching him being rolled out, Winry subconsciously knew he would definitely survive the surgery. 

She was uncertain whether or not he would survive afterwards. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winry is a lot harder than I thought she would be. For the most part I've seen her as a pretty straightforward character, but I guess not. (I'm pretty sure I missed and massacred giant chunks of her character. I apologize for her death.)
> 
> I'm going to keep revising this chapter later on. I don't know how to fix it, and frankly I know it's terrible- but hey, at least it keeps the story going. 
> 
> Thank you, so much, for still staying with the story. Please leave constructive criticism if you want to scream at my writing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality, now, was just the nightmare after the nightmare.

Colonel Mustang sat in his chair, admiring the view from his office. He wondered why he did so often- wasn’t he aiming for taller heights? Perhaps it was partly self admiration. The pride of having gotten to this prestige.

_ Colonel Bastard _ . Roy chuckled. Then his face went grim. 

The door to his office opened. “Colonel.” Mustang turned to see Havoc in salute. 

“How did the mission carry out? Did you find new information?”

Havoc grinned, the smart look in his eye. A good sign. 

“Lūsis was calling some higher-ups in a dark, shady kind of place. Seemed just a little too frantic, if you ask me. Said things about ‘his group’, ‘power’, ‘responsibility’ and whatnot. Also said something about how he thought he could discover the ‘secret’. This might not be such a high and mighty thing we’re dealing with here, Colonel. Poor management.” 

“Don’t make brash assumptions, Havoc.” 

“Yes, sir.” Havoc shrugged, then went on. “Čaklais’s gonna be a tougher guy. Too careful and diligent. One thing was off, though. He went through a lot of trouble to get to this one specific shady place- instead of the many, many phones we have in Central. I think they have some secure lines there. Most likely temporary, but I marked the locations.”

He put down two labeled recording devices and a map on his desk. “Recorded them, though, just in case.”

“I’m impressed, Havoc. How did you even manage to get to the phone locations?” 

Havoc grinned. “Shady places are always dark, and dark places always have corners to hide.” 

Mustang smirked. “Good work. You’re dismissed. Take some rest.” 

“Much-needed, sir. Thank you.” Havoc saluted, then left the office. 

The colonel laced his fingers under his nose. They might be able to get to the bottom of this sooner than he thought.

Just then, the phone rang. “Hello. This is Colonel Mustang.” 

A shaken, young girl’s voice came over the phone. “Colonel? This is Winry Rockbell.”

“Miss Rockbell.” His eyes tightened, concerned with the tone of her voice. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

“U-um… Ed just went into emergency surgery for internal bleeding. I called you because I know Al would be there as well.” 

The colonel’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t express it in his voice. “I will let him know immediately. Do you know any more details about his condition?” 

“... He was emotionally unstable. It was something out of my experience, so I couldn’t help him, but he seemed to carry great stress over his own actions.”

She was speaking more formally than usual- and if that wasn’t saying something.

Roy made his tone as relaxed and reassuring as possible. “Thank you for letting me know. Please contact me when you get an update on his situation.” 

“Thank you, Colonel.” 

She hung up the phone. 

Roy got off his chair, in a hurry to alert Alphonse. He tried his best not to show the worry in his face.

_ What an inconvenient situation this was. _

*** 

  
  


“Brother. Brother!” 

Ed turned around to see- Alphonse.

He was in his flesh body. They were sitting on a grassy hill in Resembool. Al’s glowing skin touched the green life around him, his hair blowing in the breeze and eyes radiant with brilliance. 

“A-Al?!” Ed couldn’t believe his eyes. He immediately extended his hands to grasp his brother’s shoulders. Real bone. Real flesh. Real skin. 

Al giggled. A brightening, throaty giggle. “What’s up with you, Brother?” 

“Wait- but how-? I was-” 

“Don’t you remember? I got my body back. It took us a while, though."

"We need to start cleaning up that mess, too.” Al points to something behind him. 

Ed turns around. His pupils shrunk immediately in horror and fear.

A mountain of bodies. Dead bodies. It was a mass of dead limbs and flesh, of morbidity and  _ stolen life _ . 

Blood flowed from his automail, and he could see exactly where the blade had slashed the bodies. Bulged eyes from lifeless, bloated heads popped out from their eyelids, all staring at him with tiny, tiny pupils. Men. Women. Children. With the same dead, agonizing stare. 

“Wh- What-” Ed scrambled back. 

Al giggled again, just as cheerful as last time, but with a face splattered with blood. “Brother, you don’t remember? You killed them all. Mom’s dead, too.” 

Behind Al appeared a wrangled, backwards, twisted body. A dead-eyed, and shriveled face. The thing thrashed in an attempt to move, before going limp. 

It produced a hoarse voice, “Edward… Why did you kill your mother?” 

He could only see Al’s lips as he spoke, face beaming in a smile. 

“You monster.” 

Ed woke up in a cold sweat. Gasping. 

He shuddered, and covered his face in his hands. Back to reality. 

But it made no difference. 

Reality, now, was just the nightmare after the nightmare.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the short chapter. I wasn't sure how to execute the rest of it, so I cut it short, and here it is- at least it's something.
> 
> Recently I have discovered that I have no idea how to carry the rest of this story. *yay~* 
> 
> I know how it'll end up, just not how to get there while resolving everything. I think I can bring out a better quality work if I just sat down for a while to think about it. Once I figure the nuances out, I'll get it down.   
> Things will be a little slow for awhile, but I'll try my best to keep things going. 
> 
> (Why I spend so much time stressing over my own crappy writing, I have no idea.)
> 
> Thank you, once again, for reading. It really means a lot to me that people have spent time reading my work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al stopped dead in his tracks.
> 
> Was his own brother looking for his forgiveness? 

Havoc took a long draw from his cigarette. He felt the smoke fill the very edges of his lungs- layering filth on the inside of his tissues _-_ before blowing slowly to a smell of musty ash. 

Mustang had sent him on a mission to track Nojus Pastelle at one of the places they thought was an enemy base. It lay at the end of a shadowed passageway in one of the poorer sections of Central. In the afternoon light, orange and indigo tinted the lines of nearby buildings, casting down on the dirt of the narrow street. Havoc stood behind a building standing halfway across the alley.

Naturally, he got bored in the first five minutes of spying. Unlike the intelligent group of his squadron, he didn’t have much to think about (he swore Falman spent at least six hours a day pondering the meaning of life). He felt like a kid with bad attention issues. But it was so _goddamn boring_ to just stand here and wait. 

He suddenly remembered Hawkeye’s nagging: “Enemies can smell your cigarettes, Havoc. It’s much too careless to smoke during investigations.” 

Ah- fuck that. 

Havoc was still keen with his senses, though, so he immediately heard the muffled click of a gun. He made no sound as he took the cigarette out of his mouth and ground it under his foot. Personally, he didn’t favor handguns, but his dad’s MAB rested in his right hand, loaded and ready to shoot.

“Who are you?” A cool, slithering voice.

“My name’s… Jacqueline.” 

The man behind him chuckled. “My. I seem to have met a man with… _strange_ tastes.” 

Havoc turned the corner of his mouth. “‘s right. But speak for yourself.” 

He turned the corner swiftly, handgun pointing directly at the man. “You have some strange tastes, too, to target two kids with fifteen armed men.” 

A lean, tall posture stood about six meters away. Light illuminated his chest, face, and deep auburn hair, dark shadows crossing his ribcage to his left hip. Nojus Pastelle smiled humorously, lips twisting into a crooked smile. Dull gray eyes were stone under slanting eyelids. His style belonged to that of a young man in his mid-twenties, and yet, his sculpture-dead irises and the lines under them made him seem as if he had outlived seventy years. 

“Me? No, that was some other idiot.” He lifted his palms in mock surrender, raising his eyebrows. The crooked smile and stone eyes were mocking. “I have no interest in such behavior.” 

“Makes things easier.” Havoc didn’t lower his gun even slightly. “How’d you know about the kidnapping?” 

“You know, I’m not a guy who wants power.” Pastelle’s eyes wander, almost bored. “All it means is that I have another man to kill.” They chose to rest on Havoc. 

His hands tightened on the gun, to which the man responded with empty laughter. “Doesn’t mean you, hotheaded army man. I mean someone else.” 

Havoc’s hands didn’t loosen. The blue gaze firmed. “Who?” 

Pastelle merely smiled. Then he clapped, and out of nowhere, Havoc was surrounded in smoke. He coughed, trying to keep his eyes open, but the air stung like poison. He ran in the only direction he knew- straight through the alleyway. 

Out of the cloud, Pastelle was nowhere to be seen. 

*** 

He knew he had to visit his brother.  
Winry had spoken to him the other day. Ed’s behavior should have made some sense to him, but instead it made him even more confused. Not about what his brother was thinking, but about what he needs to help him. 

Al remembered sitting in the dark room in dull silence with Winry, after she was finished talking. The only sound was the occasional sniffle from Winry. 

He asked her what he should do. 

And Winry gave him the saddest smile.  
“I don’t know, Al. You’re the only one who can get him out.” 

The three suspects had already been narrowed, and Mustang had told him there was nothing else he could ask for. Al offered to go on the missions, but this time, Mustang put his foot down. 

“Alphonse. Right now, you need to be there for your brother. That is something that, right now, nobody else can do.” 

Everyone’s trust was on him. Ed was suffering. And Al was ashamed that he didn’t know any more than anyone else.

And before he knew it, he was standing in front of the door. 

What was he going to be like today? Crying? Laughing in delusion? His gloved hand hesitated before opening the door.

If Al could show surprise, his jaw would have dropped. 

Ed was- studying. Books were stacked around the perimeter of the bed. There was a table usually used for meals, but instead, was covered in paper and books. His automail hand held a small book, while his left hand was busy writing.

He looked up. “Oh. Al.” He immediately went back to work. 

“Brother- what are you doing?” 

“Research.” His eyes seemed to have caught attention in a sentence in the book. He jotted something down, lay the book page-down, and started to look around the stacks of books. “What? I could’ve sworn it was right there… Oh, there.” 

Before he could get up, Al was already there to get the book for him. “Uhhh… is it _Cell Categorization and Alkahestry_? Wait, why are you researching alkahestry?” 

“Thanks,” he said as Al handed him the book. “You remember what that Ling guy was talking about Xingese alkahestry? It’s mostly involved in medical stuff, so the people of Xing must know some about biology. It’s never been done before, but I thought that, in case we don’t want to use the Philosopher’s stone, I can build a body instead- like you know, without a soul- and transmute your soul into it. I don’t know how I’m going to manage the toll fee to bring your soul back from the gate once I release it momentarily, though…” 

Al was, despite his concern, actually interested. “But that’s still creation, isn’t it?” 

Ed folded his arms, eyes moving their gaze occasionally while he spoke thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Medical alkahestry assists the regeneration of cells, for the most part. How they do it, though, is that they take the matter of the patient and the compounds in air to kind of reconstruct cells. It’s like a replication process.” 

Al sat down.“How are you going to replicate so many cells without my former body?” 

“That’s the thing. You know how in alchemy, we change the bonding of protons and the physical structure of the transmuted material? I need to know how to _build_ a cell. Then, I need to know how to treat those cells as molecules. We just operate in different laws.” 

Ed seemed to regain some light in his eyes. There was a flicker- of opportunity, hope, and- 

Al caught something else. 

But he pretended not to notice. It can wait. “How’d you get all these books?”

“I asked Sheska to bring them here for me. Oh yeah.” Ed looked at Al, almost as if he was surprised. “She told me you dropped out of the investigation because they got enough evidence. You wanna do this with me?” He smirked dully, “It’ll be better than reading files for Colonel Bastard.” 

Al almost giggled, and nodded. He picked up to read some of Ed’s notes. 

He didn’t question why so many ink pens had broken on the paper. 

*** 

As Al left to leave his brother alone for the night, he remembered what he saw in those eyes that day. 

It was a look, like an abused child has when they try to please their parent. Or like a criminal pleading for forgiveness. The look- the flicker- had an immense shadow of guilt. And just a little, tiny spark of hope that he might be forgiven one day. 

But forgiven by whom? Truth? The world? Life? 

...him? 

Al stopped dead in his tracks.

Was his own brother looking for his forgiveness? 

*** 

Ed wrangled his head in his hands, but no tears came out of his eyes. 

No. He can’t cry, he wasn’t allowed to cry. 

He wanted to scream. 

Scream for- for forgiveness, a breath in the midst of this suffocation, in frustration and despair that this was something he can never undo. Never. It couldn’t be solved, there was nothing he could do, it was something that he did. He dug the grave for it, in the stone cold harshness of time. It forever lay raw and unmoving in the road behind him. The murder was irreparable, dead, forever his fault-

And suddenly his soul dropped to the ground. 

  
  


_So was Nina. And Colonel Hughes. And his mother. And Al._

  
  


He couldn’t take it anymore. If he continued any further- he really wouldn’t be able to go back. 

The massive pit below him was dark, endless, absolute and utter despair and horror. 

  
  


Ed swallowed. No. No. 

_No._

He took some breaths and took a book in his hand. 

A young boy with golden hair, covered in bandages, sat in the moonlight, reading a book.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was organizing some stuff for the story, I found that the story had some massive plot holes. I hate being completely out of line with the original, so let's just say they're in Central after learning about Hughes. (Please?) 
> 
> I feel like I sometimes go way off tangent in the context of the story, especially with the investigation (which I mean to be actually relevant) but also with things like the alkahestry part (I make no sense to me, either). Sorry for those sections. Of course, skip them if you like. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading my shitty story. For those blessed souls who actually wait for new chapters, I will try to update regularly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward was strong. Honestly, stronger than any man Mustang has ever encountered in this sense. 
> 
> But every individual has a breaking point.

“Havoc. Look here.” 

Lieutenant Havoc quickly made his way to the colonel, who was pointing his white gloved hand to some ashes of burnt paper. 

They crouched in the corner of an underground space they believed one of their suspects used as a base. Thick rectangular pillars stood to support the ceiling. The staircase from above the ground barely supplied light to reflect the concrete, and Mustang had to materialize some carbon for makeshift torches. 

“You sure you didn’t accidentally torch some paper, Colonel?” 

“Havoc, this is not the time for jokes. The suspect, or, the  _ suspects _ , could still be here.” 

Havoc ran his hand through the ashes, then stood up to look around. “Too much in a hurry, maybe.” 

Mustang’s eyes sharpened. The remnants were still slightly warm, and burnt enough to be completely unrecognizable. Which meant, whoever did this thought they had enough time to burn this thoroughly, but not enough, unexpectedly, to hide the remnants from him and Havoc. 

The colonel stood up. There was definitely someone there. 

They heard the echo of chalk on concrete. 

Mustang pointed to a direction, to which Havoc deftly headed after dropping his torch. He himself walked with the torch, to face the suspect head-on. There was no point in hiding, so he went on straight ahead to the direction of the sound. He saw a figure that seemed to be frantically etching at the ground. As he moved closer, however, he discovered that they weren’t drawing a transmutation circle at all. It was just a collection of random scratches on the ground.

He heard a-  _ ping _ \- and a burst of smoke surged out of the darkness. Mustang immediately torched the gas, knowing Havoc wouldn’t be in the cloud. 

There was a hushed “- _ fuck _ - _ ” _ and the sound of heavy footsteps clapping down the alley. The two ran in that direction- Havoc behind the colonel- and Mustang, once gained an approximate location of the running man, projected just enough flame to scorch their back. There was a pained cry, but the footsteps barely slowed. 

They were catching up to him when, suddenly, blue sparks came out of the ground following a wall of concrete. Mustang and Havoc immediately stopped. Someone had been waiting to transmute this wall. Havoc knocked on the material, which was roughly done and scattered with alchemical scales. “Too thick.” 

Mustang scowled irritably, anger tracing his expression. They had gotten away- but not for long. 

“We’re leaving, Havoc.” “Yes, sir.” 

“Coming back with a plan, Colonel?” 

“We’ll have them cornered like stray dogs.” 

*** 

Apparently, the world did not like Mustang today. If that wasn’t already decided by the lost suspects, Alphonse Elric was calling to ask him if he could visit. 

_ Well.  _ Mustang pressed his thumb between his eyes. “I- happen to be free today. Is there a time I shouldn’t cross?” 

“No, the bandage replacing and checkup is done, so Brother should be free for the day. Are you sure it’s alright, Colonel?” 

Now,  _ how could he refuse? _

“Yes, Falman agreed to take over my work for the day.” 

“... He hasn’t, has he?”

Mustang chuckled, almost sadistically. “Of course, he hasn’t.” He turned his chair, facing the window behind him. “No need to worry. He’ll be happy to know it’s not for one of my dates.” 

“That’s true. Um, thank you so much.” 

“Don’t thank me so much, Alphonse. If anything, tell your brother to do it once in a while.” 

He heard light laughter at the end of the receiver. “Thank you.” Then, he hung up. 

Mustang put his phone back, still staring through the view of his window. Dark eyes hardened solemnly. Who knew what he would have to be prepared for.

*** 

When he arrived, Alphonse was unusually anxious. Edward wasn’t speaking to him ever since he discovered that the colonel was visiting. 

Mustang’s brows twisted. This wasn’t good. He was running from his own mistakes. And if Fullmetal- who never turned away from anything- was running, whatever was chasing him was bad. 

He turned to Alphonse with a gentle kind of smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” And he turned the doorknob.

Edward was sitting in a very Edward position, but there was something very off about him. He sat at the other edge of his bed, close to the window, one knee pointing propping up his elbow and the other towards the wall. His metal hand held his jaw. Mustang couldn’t make out the expression. Sometimes he suspected the boy purposefully grew his bangs to hide his face. 

He decided he’d start off lightly, then work his way through. “Hello, Fullmetal.” No insult this time.

No response, either. 

“Alphonse is quite troubled by your treatment. You know, you can’t let your temper get shorter than your height.” 

Again, there was no response. Mustang frowned. This was more serious than he thought. 

“With this behavior and attitude- what are you trying to do, Fullmetal?” 

There was a mumble along the lines of “--shut the fuck up,” and less than a second later, pipes in the ceiling were morphed into a thin steel mesh wall- something like a closed store front. 

The colonel was irritated. Why was he being so childish? 

“Childish manners won’t get you anywhere.” 

“You want me to get somewhere, Colonel?” 

The man felt no sympathy for Edward. He had expected for him to be somewhat reclusive, but this was downright immature. 

“Are you understanding how much your own younger brother is worrying for you ri-” 

Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Edward’s slight flinch at the mention of Alphonse. And before he knew it, there was the slam of a concrete wall crashing against the floor. 

The transmutation, he noticed, was perfect. As if Mustang was standing there, talking to a wall this entire time. 

Roy took a small breath. This was going to be very difficult. 

*** 

Half an hour later, he sat in his office, thinking. 

It would take an astounding mental strength to overcome this. Edward had already gone through what can easily break an individual, but that wasn’t without cost. He understood all too well that the hurdle wasn’t just  _ overcoming _ the thing- because the thing never left. 

Whoever bears it has to drag it with him, forever. 

Edward was strong. Honestly, stronger than any man Mustang has ever encountered in this sense. 

But every individual has a breaking point. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching the last episode of FMAB the other day, and I was really struck by the complete change in Edward's character.   
> The development is just incredible.
> 
> I've already watched it through once, but that was a pretty long while back. I realized how much of a difference it has in (personally) my own perception of Edward. So I'm going to try (read: very pathetically attempt) to incorporate other aspects like maturity into the general conflict. 
> 
> I really can't say this enough, but thank you so much for reading. Please stay tuned for a new chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His brother thought he was alone. This whole time. 
> 
> And nobody saw it.

There was some tension in the room as the team was called to gather at Mustang’s office. Even Hawkeye, who had been absent for some days, looked as sharp and lethal as ever. And nobody was surprised when everyone except Falman and Hawkeye was dismissed. They simply administered their positions for guarding the room. It was a sign. When the colonel was alone with Falman, there was going to be a plan.

And if Mustang was building an entire plan specifically for this, things were going to start to get real. 

On the table between the two intels was a map. It was marked curtly in black ink, the yellow paper curling with something solemn and indifferent. Nobody was taking notes, because there were none to be taken. Mustang pulled something from under his chair- a chess board. He promptly picked out three fourths of the board. On Falman’s side was a white rook, a bishop, and a king, and on Mustang’s, there was one of every piece type- the king, queen, bishop, rook, knight, and one pawn. 

Mustang flattened his fingers under his chin. He leaned over, but there was a tension in his posture. His eyes were sharp with intent as he looked up at Falman.  _ Game on. _

Falman folded his arms and took the bishop. “This is Lūsis, I presume?” 

“Considering his mobility, yes. We don’t know specifics, but with Čaklais’s planning, articulate as it is, I think it would be safe to assume so.”

The gray-haired official placed it on a location on the map. “The last base we’ve targeted is here. For an agent like Lūsis, this is likely the last resort.” 

“Any possibility of a new location?”

Falman thought for a minute. “...No. The organization can’t begin new operations under these circumstances, now that it’s come to the military’s attention. They aren’t aware of the information we currently possess. Unless something threatens its existence, substantial aid is unlikely.”

Mustang nods. “I see. So brute strength, and no intel? In which case…” He picks up the knight and places it in the location, subsequently taking the queen to put behind it. “They should have no problem.” 

Falman, deep in thought, lowered his brows slightly in sudden concern. “How do we know they don’t work together?”

Mustang’s eyes flitted over the map as he took pieces off the board and onto the paper. “Eyewitnesses first object. They have never been seen together. Second, their hideout. It was likely for emergencies- there was absolutely nothing in the area except for a hidden weapon supply and documents- which they’d already burned upon command. Third, Čaklais is Lūsis’s superior, and can command his subordinate to disperse.” 

His opposing officer leaned back slightly. “That makes sense.” 

The lieutenant in the back cleared her throat. “Colonel, I apologize in advance for the primitive question- but how do you make such a suggestion?”

Mustang turned to Hawkeye. “The weapons they had there were much too expensive for a man of Lūsis’s rank. Given their large number, Čaklais had the authority to, in an emergency, command and resupply a moderately-sized gang with that base. It’s a base given to him, and only to his rank. But if he, an intel-type that needs personnel to defend him, has no other assistance other than Lūsis… He was apparently closed off. By Lūsis’s mistake. Typical for a gang style organization.” 

“If it’s a gang, then why didn’t the organization kill the two?” 

Mustang’s eyes returned to analyze the map. “We don’t know. It’s most likely part of a plan.” He turns to Falman. “Suspicions?”

“... This leader is tricky. We have no idea what his motives are. It is most effective to pursue these two, but we need to be on careful watch for a possible plan.” 

Having finished organizing the map and scanning any possibilities, he looked at Falman. “What do you think?” 

“I see no obvious errors.” 

“Alright. Hawkeye, memorize this map and spread the plan to the rest of the squadron.” 

The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

In a moment, she interpreted the map and the pieces on it. Two distinct locations were marked, forming a triangle with Mustang’s office. With the white Bishop stood a black Knight and Queen- Havoc and Hawkeye, on one location on the map. Placed on a different location was a white Rook, and in front of it was the black pawn and king. The black rook was in between the two bases, while the black bishop stayed at the Central office. The white king was placed in a completely different location. Surrounding it were no pieces. But the diagonals of the black bishop and perpendiculars of the black rook were intersected on its location. 

Simply put, Fuery was the Pawn, Mustang was the King, Hawkeye was the Queen, Havoc was the Knight, Breda was the Rook, and Falman was the Bishop. To attack Čaklais, Fuery would act as bait while Mustang defended him. To attack Lūsis, Hawkeye and Havoc would join forces on a complete offense. Breda would keep a lookout for Pastelle, the white King, and Falman would back him up from the office. 

Mustang headed towards his desk. “The offense for Lūsis happens first. The next plan may change, depending on how the outcomes.” 

The plan was to be initiated at sunrise. All pieces were set. 

*** 

Winry woke up before sunrise, a habit she had from Resembool. The sun had just begun to seep over the buildings of the city, and everything was an uneasy, purple indigo. Winry rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, despite the fact that she was completely off work. 

She decided to get a glass of water, and headed to the kitchen, to see Riza readying her weapons. She stood in her black and beige investigation wear. Guns were neatly arranged over the table, and Riza was carefully tucking each one into her various vests and pockets.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?” 

Riza looked up, giving her a small smile. 

“Are you going to leave for a mission?” 

Riza looked down at the table before resuming her work. “It’s just a suspect hunt. It’ll be cleaned up quickly.” 

“... Lieutenant?”

The woman turned questioning eyes to the young girl, who was gripping her hands into tight fists. Her blue eyes were darker than usual, and when uncovered by her bangs, were deep with sorrow. 

“Please… Please stay safe.” 

Riza gave her a comforting smile. She walked up to Winry, putting a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t a pity touch. It was strength, comfort, and assurance. 

“It’ll be alright.” 

Seeing the lieutenant’s confidence, Winry smiled. “Good luck on your mission, Lieutenant.” 

*** 

Meanwhile, Alphonse sat in the darkness of his room after another sleepless night. During times like these, his mind was a vacuum, recollecting everything that had been on his mind. 

He couldn’t forget his brother’s face. Al knew it would never happen, even if the world fell to pieces- but it looked like Ed completely abandoned himself. The deadness in those eyes wasn’t a weakness, or defeat- it was a submission into everything he was burdened with. Because if anything could destroy his invincible brother, it was his guilt. 

_ “I don’t know, Al. You’re the only one who can get him out.”  _

_ “Alphonse. Right now, you need to be there for your brother. That is something that, right now, nobody else can do.”  _

But there was  _ nothing he could do.  _ His brother was completely inside his own head, cornered with things he couldn’t deny- 

And suddenly, Alphonse realized.

His brother thought he was completely on his own. It was obvious, and yet nobody was concerned with it- they couldn’t step back to see the larger picture. All they had been worried about was the weight he put upon his responsibilities. Ed was the only person who thought he alone was supposed to carry all of it. 

His brother thought he was alone. This whole time. 

And nobody saw it. 

Al shook his head.  _ No. That’s not it. _

People saw how he put these responsibilities upon himself. But they, including Al, thought they were helping in some way. 

That was the brick wall. That was the shield in front of his brother’s eyes.  _ Ed _ believed that he was responsible, therefore he didn’t accept any help anyone offered to him. He’d completely blocked himself off. 

Saying “You can lean on us” didn’t necessarily mean that Ed opened that door for himself- it actually didn’t do anything. Because his brother never comprehended that people were willing to go beyond spoken promise- to actually help. 

Al stood up. Weak light from the sunrise tinted his armor. 

He might be able to help his brother somehow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update. My brain is a shitty thing that refuses to work. :)
> 
> I put in a lot more concrete concepts in here- like how military works and whatnot- that I'm not entirely sure I got accurate. If you ever see something that's inaccurate- anything- and if you're so generous to point it out, please do so. If I can make this trashy writing even a bit better, I'm open to everything. 
> 
> And as always, and every time, thank you so much for reading. :3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’ll stay, just like everything else. It’s an enormous haul to carry, but as long as he keeps trudging on he’ll be alright. He can keep going.
> 
> He only hoped it would stay.

It was a few days until Edward grudgingly gave into reality, and allowed his younger brother to visit him again. He knew he was being unreasonably stubborn (he always does), but he needed the break. The last thing he  _ actually _ needed was not Mustang coming to counsel him about murder. At this point, he’d examined  _ it  _ from every moral and reasonable standpoint. There was no justification. What happened, happened. That was that.

So why couldn’t he move on? 

With curled fists and bitten lips in cruel silence he had thought- he had  _ known _ \- that nobody else needed a week-long mental breakdown after his first kill. Wallowing in guilt wasn’t going to do anything. Not for him, not for Al, or Winry, or the men he murdered. He knew that. So goddammit _ , why couldn’t he get himself out? _

But another part of him lingered: he’s just going to have to drag this. It’ll stay, just like everything else. It’s an enormous haul to carry, but as long as he keeps trudging on he’ll be alright. He can keep going.

He only hoped it would  _ stay. _

Ed had been getting regular updates from Al about the investigation. Although it wasn’t a subject he was willing to actually  _ think _ about, he was listening.  Anything to distract him. 

“So yesterday, the Colonel went to pursue and interrogate Lūsis. They found him exactly where they thought he was. I don’t think there was much resistance from him, from what I’ve heard and seen from the Lieutenant and the Colonel. Everything was apparently going well to plan up until the interrogation.”

“What happened?”

“You won’t believe it, Brother- Colonel Mustang said he had  _ no  _ information.”

His older brother rolled his eyes. “Colonel’s just being dramatic. They probably got  _ some _ intel. Like the leader’s name, the HQ, whatnot.”

Al shook his head. “No. He got  _ nothing _ . All he was doing was following orders from the phone calls on the hotline. None of the people he worked with- except Čaklais- he didn’t even know the name of.” 

Ed scrunched his brows. “At least he got Čaklais’s info, right?” 

“That’s the thing!” Al was, strangely, somewhat excited. “Just as they brought him back to Central, there was a murder. The Colonel said he thought it was weird he was getting a call about a murder in Central- but then it was  _ Čaklais _ . The one who planned the transmutation for the wall in the warehouse. He was killed with a shot to the head. They had no idea who did it.” 

That got Ed thinking. Cross-legged, he folded his arms. “Obviously someone murdered him before he could spit out info to the military… Means, the real problem is who could be both trusted but still low enough on the chain to be the hitman. Do they know the size of the organization?”

“I think… they said the warehouse had enough weapons to arm twenty men.”

“And that’s abandoned- so the thing is pretty huge. Damn. Military’s being a bit lousy, don’t you think? Having an army-sized enemy alliance under their noses.”

Al added thoughtfully, “If the Colonel gets to the bottom of it, though, he’ll definitely be promoted.” 

There was a huff in response. “Who fucking cares about the bastard’s promotions? Al, I’m telling you, he got on this case  _ for _ this shit.” 

Both of them knew that wasn’t true. 

Al wanted desperately to ask his brother how he was feeling. There was so much he wanted to say. He was initially cautious on the topic of murder, but realized that  _ Ed would realize  _ that he was being cautious about it. And that would make things a lot worse. 

From what he could see, his brother was really down from his usual self, but otherwise seemed- almost alright? Even so, the doubt stayed strong. There was no way Ed just took care of this by himself. 

*** 

The evening ended with Al leaving his brother for some time by themselves. Lots of unspoken things were on their minds, which they needed to sort out- and couldn’t talk about- yet.

Unspoken words were predominant in their bond, apparently. In this situation, though, Al wasn’t sure if that was helpful. 

Hearing the metal clanking grow dimmer across the hall, Ed returned his focus to the quiet rustling of sheets on his bed. As peaceful as it was, he felt like he was suffocating in this boredom. Thinking was the only thing he could do. And thinking was a venomous process. He would poke and prod at it, only to be met with the devastatingly overwhelming darkness, dripping to no conclusion except for the momentary bliss of sleep. And then, the day would repeat. 

He’d already learned all there is to learn about biological alkahestry. He just needed to form a solution. But to find a solution, they need to talk to people, and to talk to people he needed to get out of the goddamn suffocating hospital. 

Not to mention the sticky, bitter, poisonous fact that he would have to face Mustang eventually. Simply put, he didn’t  _ want _ it. Just- no. He shouldn’t need to, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to  _ talk about his fucking feelings _ but this was murder and he knew it wasn’t about his feelings entirely but it was and  _ he killed like fifteen men _ and he didn’t know how to extinguish the black void eating away at him but the difference was too big because Mustang was a goddamn adult when he was in the army and he was a child and apparently because he was a child he needed some sort of “resolution” but he felt like a kid when he was treated that way but he knew he actually couldn’t shrug this off on his own and nothing works and everything is shit and------

So went Edward’s daily mental processes. 

Ed flopped down on his pillow and flung off the blankets. He put the back of his left hand on his face. He felt so lethargic- it’d only been a week, right?- from staying in this semi-prison for so long. Even if he got out, though, this new venom in his brain could never be washed away. No amount of battle, sunlight,  _ freedom _ ever will. 

He asked for it. Of course he did. The universe didn’t spare kids from making horrifying mistakes, because the universe was  _ just that _ . That was Truth. 

But sometimes, it felt like there was no end to this painful and ugly road he traveled along. 

And sometimes, he wondered if it would ever end. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the short chapter~ 
> 
> (sorry for the useless personal info) I have two summer classes going on at the moment. The first half was easy, but somehow the second half got exponentially more difficult. I'm currently switching back and forth between deadlines for tests and such, so I don't completely demolish both. They're going to last for another two weeks or so- until then, the chapters may not be as frequent, and I am so sorry :((
> 
> It is getting quite close to the end though. And I have some ideas for new works, but if anything I will finish this first. 
> 
> And yet again, thank you- *so much* - for reading. You keep me going. :3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please believe me when I say this, Alphonse- but this was something that had to be done. Your brother will understand someday, as well.”

Well. Mustang was visiting again. “Adult talk” and whatnot. Frankly, though, this wasn’t really the typical “adult talk” someone might have with a fifteen year-old. 

At first Ed dreaded it with a passion, but now, it was repulsive with more annoyance than anything else. To him it was another lecture from the Colonel. Just infinitely worse, though, because in this setting he wasn’t the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was just a fucking kid. And _the Colonel_ , that narcissistic bastard, was the adult. _God,_ he hated it. 

It was currently 3:34 in the afternoon, and he was supposed to be here at 5. At this point, Ed was counting minutes in his cramped hospital room. The only reason he agreed in the first place was because Al wanted him to do it. And even though Ed obviously wouldn’t say it out loud, he’d cost his brother a lot more trouble than usual. Usual, being _their_ norm. 

4:51 PM, and an erratic twitch was beginning to pull on Ed’s left eye, misaligning with the steady ticking of the clock Al brought him. He’d folded his arms, legs crossed, gaze burning a hole on something past the wall. Nobody came in, because everyone knew better. 

The moment the clock ticked five, Ed closed his eyes. He braced for the clapping footsteps and lofty, mocking voice that was _sure_ to carry an insult the moment the door opened. He stayed like this for a full 5 minutes. A full 5 minutes before he dared peek at the door.

Then 10 minutes passed, and the door still remained closed. Veins were popping under Ed’s skin, ready to burst in rage. And maybe because he felt it was unfair that _he_ was the one who had so much stress, he finally decided to yell: “Colonel fucking BASTARD I SWEAR IF YOU DON’T SHO-”

“Hello, Fullmetal.” The door opened with a wide swing. Right on cue. 

And Ed just lost it. 

Mustang simply sat next to the bed, setting down his briefcase and shaking his head while Edward burst into a furious stream of unintelligible expletives. “If your barbaric insults are directed at me, at least make them understandable.” 

As Ed began to form actual words to retort back to the colonel, Mustang held up a hand towards his face and said, “I apologize. I was running late on paperwork, and Hawkeye wouldn’t let me go unless I finished. I came as soon as possible.” 

The boy furrowed his brows, examining Mustang’s completely calm, un-rushed state. “You seem awfully relaxed for having 10 minutes late on the clock.” 

The colonel averted his eyes and smirked. “Well. Let’s just say I was waiting for the right time.” 

Somehow more furiously than before, Ed riled up a storm against Mustang, to which the man simply mock-sighed and ridiculed the boy. This continued for another quarter of an hour. But both knew it was simple, although _extremely_ irritable, joking. If Ed was serious, and Mustang was serious, the building wouldn’t have lasted 3 minutes. 

Once things had died down a bit, Mustang clasped his hands, elbows on his knees. “Well. Fullmetal, time we get to the actual conversation.” He shot Ed a warning glance. Ed hesitated, and sterned, not in fear but in readiness. 

The crow-black eyes didn’t avert their gaze. “I’ll get straight to the point. We have no spare regard for useless emotions. First. Fullmetal. Have you comprehended, to their full extent, the severity of your actions?” 

Ed didn’t like to be the one to break off a stare, but he had to look away. “I- wouldn’t say, completely. I’ve seen lives taken away more than I liked. Of course, on this road I took, I’ll be seeing much more. I was shocked-” he clenched his fists, “because I thought, _I thought_ , we- _I_ \- could make it through this without killing anyone.” He paused, and loosened his hands. “And it wasn’t even for a good cause.”

Mustang wasted no time sympathizing, for he knew this all too well. “As much as I would like to exchange sentiments, your duty as a soldier and as an individual in this world is to be able to protect and fight for others. This accounts for your goal, as well. Therefore, your utmost priority at this moment is to deal with your problems as quickly as possible. And to do that, you need to face them absolutely without hesitation.” Mustang looked down and took a breath. This really was too much for a teenager. But there was no other choice. As he lifted his gaze Ed caught just a flash of genuine sympathy- pity?- before the dark eyes stoned. 

He bent down to open his briefcase, and took from it a large folder with many smaller files. Setting down the stack of papers in his lap, the colonel took the first file. It was virtually untouched- beige, and unwrinkled. He opened it mechanically and started reading. 

“Kurt Schneider. Age 35. Male. Husband of Aili Schneider, biological father of Griselde and Johan Schneider. Occupation: Accountant at Amestris State Bank. Criminal Records: Noted affiliation with a presumed criminal association. Two recorded accounts of assisted burglary of private property. Three recorded accounts of unpermitted monetary transactions involving both private and public finance. Additional notes: Murdered by State Alchemist Edward Elric during an armed group battery attempt. Declared dead by cardiac hemorrhage from an open wound.” He closed the file and set it down beside him, not hesitating a second before picking up the next. 

Edward watched in pure horror. Every word Mustang read from his papers was a needle penetrating his chest, which sank heavier and heavier in the utter reality that this _was_ real. It was recorded, it was done, and he had done it. How devastatingly wrong he was, when he thought he had really dealt with it. 

They had names. Faces. Families. And he had _slaughtered_ them. 

Too late for Ed to know that this was what he was running from. 

“Markel Schulz. Age 41. Male. Widower of deceased Idalia Schulz. Occupation: Unemployed. Criminal Records: Noted affiliation with a presumed criminal association. Associated with management of three dozen cases of illegal weapon dealing. Seven reported cases of minor physical assault. Additional notes: Murdered by State Alchemist Edward Elric during an armed group battery attempt. Declared dead by hemorrhage from a ruptured carotid artery from an open wound.” Again, not a single moment was spared for Ed to catch his breath before Mustang continued reading. 

After the fourth file, Ed was hyperventilating. He couldn’t stop his shaking hands, and the reading was unbearable hell. Just as he took his hands to cover up his ears, a sharp spark of fire snapped at his flesh hand. 

Ed whipped around to see that Mustang had the full intention to stop his hands. The colonel glared at him before continuing. 

“Father of Malia, Talia, Ilya, and Markus Richter…” 

No. _No._ He couldn’t do this. It was crushing. Their children, their wives, had waited for them to come home. He made that day devastating for them. He made them attend _sixteen_ funerals. 

Ed thought the world was going to consume him in guilt. 

*** 

Al didn’t stay close to the hospital room. When the colonel had a gaze like that, it was going to be serious. Whatever words they exchanged, they didn’t want heard.

But Al was shocked, to say the least, when he saw the aftermath. His brother’s hand was covered in burns- light ones, but painful- and he had his head between his knees. The arms he brought up to cover his ears had a slight, but relentless, tremor. The colonel’s face was glazed over with a stone mask, as he rose to leave the building. 

“Colonel.” Al called out in a calm, but firm, voice. 

He stopped. 

“What- what did you do to my brother?” 

The colonel paused. He seemed to be rubbing his temples with his free hand. “Please believe me when I say this, Alphonse- but this was something that had to be done. Your brother will understand someday, as well.”

With this, he walked on straight ahead and left the building.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughhhhhh~ another ugly chapter... 
> 
> and I have absolutely no idea how to continue this while making sense- 
> 
> *regrets everything*
> 
> As always- thank you, so much, for reading this shitty writer's work~ uwu
> 
> (Edit: I just realized I wrote "hands were covered in burns". "HANDS". I deserve to be kicked out of this fandom, honestly.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know- I think I kind of get it.” 
> 
> “What?” 
> 
> “Why he did what he did.” 

His brother just sat blankly for the next few hours. Not really looking at anything. Or doing anything. Just awfully- devastated. To Al, Ed’s expression was much too close to the one he wore after they transmuted their mother. 

After three hours, Al decided he should bring his thoughts forward. 

“Brother?” 

Ed responded weakly, in a low voice. “Yeah?”

“Why do you think… the colonel did that to you?” 

It didn’t really matter to him,  _ why _ . The thing was done, he’d heard all of it, and frankly, he felt as if someone had gored the inside of his soul. Strangely, though, it wasn’t anger he had towards the man who did so. It was more like… a newfound sort of fear. “I don’t know. I don’t really care.” 

Al breathed deeply in his hollow suit of armor. “You know- I think I kind of get it.” 

“What?” 

“Why he did what he did.” 

Ed stared dully at his left hand. “I would assume it’s some sort of punishment, I guess. If I killed sixteen people, though, I honestly think I deserve more.” 

“No, that’s not it.”

“What do you mean?” 

Al’s eyes were gleaming with determination. “He didn’t do that to punish you. He did that to make you  _ understand _ .” 

Ed returned his words with a corpse of a chuckle. “Well, he did that right.” 

“No- that’s not what I mean-” Al took his brother’s automail shoulder. “Brother. Just listen.” It had the desired effect, because Ed went silent in surprise. 

He took off his gloved hand off his brother. “Colonel Mustang killed hundreds of innocent civilians in the Ishvalan Massacre. He didn’t do it out of self defense or by accident. He set hundreds of people on fire just because the government told him to do so. I don’t think it’s my right to talk about his thoughts and experiences, but I can’t imagine that he just shrugged that off.” 

Ed shifted his glance to his hands, but he was still listening. 

“The colonel probably went through so many things. I shouldn’t tell you this, but-” Al hesitated. “Colonel Hughes once told me, he tried to attempt suicide. Given that, it was probably unbearable. The guilt and pain was definitely unbearable. They were men, women,  _ children _ , by the hundreds. They died slow, painful deaths by his hand- burned to charred muscle while screaming for their mothers. I don’t think it could be anything short of real hell. Hughes had to stop him from putting a bullet through his head. And Brother- what do you think he did, when he realized suicide wasn’t the answer?” 

His mouth and hands were closed. But his golden eyes, once dead, were relit- slightly. 

“He confronted his mistakes, and decided he could do something for the better. By keeping his life, he swore to change the lives of Ishvalans by becoming the Fuhrer. And the resolve shouldn’t have been easy, nor light. Because, I think, that justified his reason to move forward. For you- it’s first to get your body back- and then, to help chimeras we couldn’t save, like Nina.” 

“Don’t you see? The only way you could make your sins meaningful, is to grow from them, give back their full weight, and add a tenfold  _ more _ .”

“You murdered those men. That’s reality. Nobody can change reality. That’s why the only way you can make their deaths meaningful is by moving on, and changing something else.” 

Ed felt as if he were struck by realization. What Mustang and his brother pointed out to him wasn’t salvation, or mercy. It was nothing more than simple reality. It was Truth. What he had been looking for, this whole time, was probably some sort of miracle- to undo the past, undo the deaths, undo his sins. But  _ didn’t he know this best? _

It was equivalent exchange-just plus tenfold. His guilt never lifted, and it never will, but even if it didn’t, he would still have a direction. He would still have people to save. 

And  there _ - _ _there_ \- was the beacon of Truth. 

What Al saw in his brother’s eyes next, wasn’t happiness. And it wasn’t regret. 

Ed turned to Al. He looked straight at him. And gave him a soft, yet strong, “Thank you.” Although he didn’t smile, he’d truly meant it.

  
What Al saw in his brother’s eyes wasn’t  _ hope _ . It was pure, white-hot determination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this chapter longer, honestly, but I didn't know exactly how without destroying the mood (if I didn't already butcher it) or making it too annoying. Well. This chapter's on the waitlist for an edit in the future, when I'm not such a shitty writer. 
> 
> Thank you. Thank you, for reading. I hope this chapter's not too disappointing. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood on a mountain of bodies. Lives cut short, with a snap to command the terrifying symphony of agonized screaming and burning flesh. 
> 
> Did a man such as he, really have the right to push out his own beliefs onto the boy? 

Mustang closed his eyes as he directed his piercing focus to the surroundings. 

A trace of movement in the air, bare skeleton of a sound, and mostly, intuition- confirmed the presence of another man in the building. 

_ Two floors. Seven rooms. Two escape routes, one in front and one in the back. Stone and concrete building, wood in the doorways.  _

Fuery deliberately pretended to be cornered in a room, so that his opponent would attempt to disable him with force. He hid in a steel locker in the far corner of the room, silent until Mustang’s signal. It was a gas alchemist he was dealing with. If he wanted death it would be carbon monoxide. But if it was information, it would be sleeping gas. He and the colonel had slipped on gas masks, so that was covered. The only problem was a possibility the opponent would transmute the oxygen in the air. And that would be troublesome. 

Just as he guessed, testing footsteps fell flat in the hallway. The person outside was listening at the doorway. For a hint- a sign- of a weaker man, a hiding man. 

Timing was critical. Too soon, and it would be suspicious- too late, and he would leave. 

Five seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty agonizing seconds- and- Mustang slipped on his gloves.

Nojus Pastelle stepped right into the doorway, ready to clap his hands. But Mustang was faster. The doorframe blazed under Nojus’s shoes, flames riding up his clothing and licking raw flesh. A scream echoed through the building.

The enemy was at his knees as the colonel approached. He would seem frantic were it not for the statue eyes that glared up towards the blue-clothed man before him. They were so full of fixed hatred- and something similar to, but not quite, like  _ wrath _ .

Meeting that gaze flipped a switch in the back of his head. This man, who was  very potentially definitely involved in that assault, was somehow resentful towards  _ him _ . Flashes of a golden-haired boy with a crater through his abdomen, horribly limp in his arms under the light of the warehouse, cast from his memory. As Mustang went on to mercilessly blaze the bent man before him, perhaps an underlying emotion was that anger he held towards  _ himself _ . 

Though he couldn’t hear the screams, the colonel did still remember to stop before Nojus burnt to death. He needed information. With a cold, black glare he took his opponent by the throat. 

The voice was harshly monotone. “Who ordered the attack?”

Nojus was left gasping for air. “Wh-which one? If y-you’re talking about the- one that happened last we-ek, I didn’t order- it.” 

The grip only grew tighter. “Lies are useless here.”

“No, no, I- didn’t order it. -Lūsis- did it, he worked with Čaklai---.” He was choking, it seemed like, so Mustang released his hand. “Speak,” was the only word he uttered while the vermin on the ground was coughing. 

“It was a joint operation- they did it in secret. They spied on the military for months. The association wanted military information, but Caklais thought it suspicious if the whole body was involved, so he chose a subordinate and executed the plan without permission.” 

“And the plan?”

“The two were looking for an…  _ opening _ in the military. They saw the kid, and they decided on him. Because his-” Nojus peered cautiously at Mustang, “boss, was the only major combatant that would abandon his office to rescue his subordinate while holding enough classified files for benefit to an enemy.“

And then, it all made sense. Why it was so late at night, why it was on a day where his squad happened to have an absent day, why it was such a weak group whose seemingly only purpose was to take information from Edward. 

Mustang glared down at his opponent with outraged disbelief. He spoke slowly, in a dangerously lethal tone. “Your purpose wasn’t useless information- it was the files in my office. You don’t seem to have succeeded, however?” 

Nojus didn’t meet the gaze. His irises flitted in nervous fear of the Flame Alchemist, knowing the consequences of his following words. “They didn’t account for how strong the boy was. Nojus and Čaklais knew their men would die, but not  _ that quickly. _ ” 

The last phrase just about  _ flared _ Mustang. He snapped, and two ears set on fire. A scream followed. 

The writhing man clapped, extinguishing the fire by eliminating the oxygen around it. Nojus shivered pathetically in front of Mustang, who silently signaled for his subordinate to capture the criminal. 

Fuery creaked out of the locker cautiously, almost fearful towards the colonel’s expression. It was one of hidden, seething, and deep detest. Were he not an army man himself, he may have felt sorry for Pastelle. 

*** 

_ Had he done the right thing? _

It was an astoundingly well-executed mission. Worthy of celebration, a huge gain to the Amestrian military. But Riza had left him alone, knowing that the colonel was anything but in a glorious mood. 

So he sat alone in his living room on his armchair, the celebratory alcohol out in front of him, disgustingly lukewarm and greasing his throat. 

He stood on a mountain of bodies. Lives cut short. The death of innocent spirits left dark space, a reminder for what could have been a thriving, branching, beautiful generation of people with humane compassion and innocence. Gone, with a word just leaving the Fuhrer’s mouth, with a snap to command the terrifying symphony of agonized screaming and burning flesh. 

Did a man such as he, really have the right to push out his own beliefs onto the boy? 

The golden lights in the dim room glowed with a feline shade of venom, a color so deceptively like refinement, hiding the truly horrifying shadows of man’s sins. 

He looked upon Ed with swelled pride to a subordinate, hearing his successes like they were music to his ears. In his truest intent, he hoped- truly hoped- that he could go through this journey without being scarred by manslaughter. He knew, anything was better than that. 

But the universe really wasn’t kind. 

Mustang had thought that, no matter the burden, Ed had to keep going. This journey was his core to his being, as well as a vector for all his beliefs. He cannot be swayed by something like this. Mustang himself was too late. Ed- Ed was heading towards a much greater brightness. The darkness would never go away, but as long as the light inside him won, he could keep going. He only hoped the boy would notice. 

No, he would. He would understand. 

_ He would.  _

The colonel, as he sat with his hands clasped over his knees, almost seemed as if he was praying. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I profusely apologize for the late update. Really, I have no excuse. 
> 
> But, now that summer classes are finally over, I think I can start setting a pace. (Don't count on it- but I will definitely try.) As if my shitty writing can make up for the time gap and excuses, well, here's a new chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly he dialed the number. He knew it, of course, by heart. He’d punched it in on so many occasions- an annoying report, an intense mission, and sometimes- maybe once or twice- with bloody fingers. 
> 
> Just now it occurred to him, he never left him hanging. 

“Rockbell Automail Services, this is Winry Rockbell speaking.” 

“Hey, Winry.” 

“Ed! You… better not have ruined my automail already..” 

A smirk played on Ed’s face. “Don’t worry, I haven’t, Winry- _san_.” 

He stood, phone in one hand, in the cool hallways of the hospital. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the lights, and the walls were lit dimly with the dying radiance of the sun. Following the orange streaks on the ground, Ed cast his eyes over to the scenery of the darkening purple city behind him. The sunlight reflecting off the windows on the buildings were so blazing, he had to cover his eyes. 

_Resembool must be looking at an even brighter sunset, huh?_

The thought of it shot a pang of nostalgia through his chest as he remembered how tangerine cast upon beat-up wrenches, hardwood floors, the grass of the cemetery… Of course he wanted to go back. But not yet. It was a hard rule he and Al put upon themselves that they didn’t go there carelessly. Moreover, in Ed’s mind, he needed to get _something_. A lead, a finding, anything to somewhat- validate their return. 

“Why are you calling, anyway? We literally met before I left today.” 

“Do you not like me calling? You’re the one who’s always nagging me to-” 

“No, no, that’s not it. I was just wondering.” Did she seem more flustered than usual? 

“Uh…” Ed scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I- wanted to check if you got back home safely.” 

“Oh, really~?” The sneering was almost visible. “Awfully considerate for a certain brickhead I know.” 

“Shut up! I’m going to hang up, I’ve already had my confirmation.” 

“No! Let’s talk. You don’t call me often anyways, fill me up for a month in advance. How’s Al?” 

Ed frowned, but continued anyway. “Okay, Al’s doing alright. He looks like he’s doing better, mentally. The incident’s still bothering him, but he’s working his way through it.” 

“That’s good. I never really know what he’s thinking, you know, so I thought it’d be best to hear it from you.” 

“Even to me, Al’s really an enigma sometimes. Oh, how’s Grandma?” 

A giggle crackled over the receiver. “Same as always. Didn’t say a word about anything, put me to work right after I got home.” 

“Heheh. Sounds like her. Nothing to worry about her, is there?” 

“Yeah. I really don’t know what I’d do without her. Oh, did you hear from Elicia-san? I didn’t have time to say goodbye, and sent her a thank-you gift.” 

“They visited today. Elicia was holding the bear.” 

“Really?” 

The two chattered on as the sun set. It was a peaceful conversation, filled with light laughter and insults. Ed forgot the time, and by the time Winry had to leave for dinner, the sky was dark. He noticed a white glow on the wall, and turned around, face to face with the bright moon. Ed’s golden eyes, gazing at the moon, seemed to layer a new, strong depth under the white glow that shone on them. 

_How many entire nights have I gone through, under this moonlight?_

He slumped on the ground against the telephone table, body opposite the high window. Ed hung his forearms on his knees, looking down at the ground. He stayed there a few moments, took a few breaths. 

Then he stood up and picked up the phone.

Slowly he dialed the number. He knew it, of course, by heart. He’d punched it in on so many occasions- an annoying report, an intense mission, and sometimes- maybe once or twice- with bloody fingers. Just now it occurred to him, he never left him hanging. 

On the last digit, Ed took a deep breath. And found that there was no exception to the colonel’s quick pickup. 

“Hello, this is Colonel Roy Mustang.” 

“...”

“...”

“...” 

“Hello?” 

Ed couldn’t bring himself to say anything. How was he supposed to start- _fuck it_ , he should’ve thought harder about this. And what was it that he wanted to say? Why did he even decide to call? 

“... I’ll be hanging up.” 

Ed took another deep breath. _Fuck it._

In an almost imperceptibly quiet voice he muttered: “It’s me.” 

What followed was an incredibly long pause on the Colonel’s part. The silence was shared, a tense wad of space that both of them couldn’t easily swallow. Ed, for the anticipation of the colonel’s response. And for Mustang, a complete loss of words. 

He played the easy card. “Fullmetal?” 

“... Yeah.” It was returned back to him.

“... “ 

He was in no position to say anything. At honest truth he’d physically maimed the boy, left him scars for life, and gave him no apology all in the one hope that he _might_ get something the colonel couldn’t. Nothing could be said or done to mend it. Mustang didn’t move a muscle in his seat. The silence was palpable in his lonely office, dark and shadowed.

“If… there’s nothing you want to say, I will hang up.” The voice was carefully quiet. Glossed in solemn formality. And also slightly as if he was in pain, or as if he’d just tasted something very, very bitter. 

At the other end of the line Ed swallowed. He knew the weight of his words in this situation. What he wanted wasn’t pity. It was a _return_. He just wanted to get a single message through. Just one thing to let him know- 

“About the other day.”

Again, there was another cautious pause. “Is there something you’d like to say about it?”

“..I… understood.” 

Something crashed over Mustang, but he didn’t know what. Not sadness. Not pain. Not joy. Not forgiveness. Maybe something close to relief. But not quite. Perhaps- it was hope. 

“...I see.” 

_Shit- wait- it can’t end like this. There was one other thing- he needed to get that through._

“Colonel.” 

“...” 

“Have you, … seen their faces?” 

The colonel decided to answer honestly. It was the only thing he could offer, now.

“Well. You may think it to be inhuman, but. I don’t remember their faces at all. Or their bodies.” Mustang turns around in his seat, facing the view illuminated brightly with moonlight. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

His voice was gravelly, traveling through the speaker. It was overshadowed with such gravity that could only be described as if it was dragged through the dirt of hundreds of graves. “I only remember the voices.” 

Ed paused, a silent beckon to continue. 

“Their faces, I couldn’t remember because the moment I’d met them, they’d be on flames. Their faces would-” he sucked in a breath- “melt, from the high heat. So I don’t remember the faces. I only hear the voices.”

“I doubt, Fullmetal, that you or I would ever hear a sound more agonizing than one of a child whose throat is on fire.”

The boy hesitated, so indescribably terrible Mustang’s voice sounded. But he decided to continue. “What do you do, when you hear them?” 

“As an adult, I have a useful medicine called alcohol." There was a rueful smile. "How ironic, however, that no matter how many times I use it, it never works.” Mustang took a silent sigh.

“All you can do is just wait.” 

“...” 

“I just can’t unsee their faces.” Ed felt that it was unfair the colonel was the only one talking. He held up his automail to cover the moon, watching rays of white pass through metal. “The blood. The mouths. The eyes are so _dead_. But always staring at me. All of them.

"I’ve never thought about running away. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I have to just stare back. No matter how much I stare into those dead eyes, nothing comes out of it. But I can’t stop, or look away.” 

Ed exhales, and pulls his hand back. He watches his automail fingers glint in the half-shadows. He furrows his brows in grim realization. “That’s the price, isn’t it? The price for murder.” 

The distance between the two, at that moment, was warped unfairly against the world. Here they were- exchanging the most personal words that either of them could muster- and yet they were so far apart. The tension, stretched and strangled in this distance, sank into the air around them and the silences in between as a heavy weight. 

“You’re right.”

“...” 

“... Fullmetal?” 

“Yeah?” 

“... Thank you.” Then, the phone hung up. 

Ed looked blankly at the phone. _What just happened? What did he thank him for?_

Still confused, cautiously he placed the phone back. Ed decided to drop it. He'd done it- faced him- and that was all that mattered.

He leaned his weight on the table, sinking into his shoulders. He looked, once again, for the millionth time, straight at the moon. In his eyes was dreadful determination. 

_The price._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, fluffykitty12, for the wonderful suggestion~ I hope I did it alright (actually, I probably beat it to death). 
> 
> And thank you, for reading these 15 shitty chapters.
> 
> I honestly, cannot describe my gratitude for staying with the story this far. What crappy, trashy scrips of ideas I had in my head, you helped me dig out. 
> 
> I'll do my very best for the last two.
> 
> Again, thank you.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there was one whisper, too loud to overlook but too quiet to point: “They’re going to get the death sentence anyway, why didn’t he kill them?” 

The officer was in the uneasy space between admiration and confusion. In front of him supposedly stood the Fullmetal Alchemist, having captured the ten criminals that had been ransacking Central for the past few weeks. Who were also sitting in front of him. The thing was, this kid couldn’t have been older than 15. 

He looks at the boy. Being quite tall, all he could see was a head of bobbing golden hair. The alchemist was yelling at one of the onlookers at the scene who had (too boldly) mumbled something about the height of the capturer. 

In the midst of the heated argument (the other man was actually quite headstrong) the soldier interrupted, “Um… Mr. Elric?” 

He whipped his head around and answered, “What?” As the man behind him yelled, “You pipsqueak-” the alchemist simply clapped his hands and yelled, “YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP”- before transmuting arms that reached from the concrete ground to cover up the man’s mouth. 

The alchemist turned around properly this time, and peered up at the soldier with his fiercely bright eyes. “What?” he asked again. 

The soldier scratched his head. “Excuse me for being rude… I have heard rumours of your skill, but I have a hard time believing you did this by yourself.” 

Edward’s expression shifted to one of frank honesty. “Oh. I didn’t do this on my own. Al helped me.” He pointed a thumb towards a tall suit of armor that jutted a head above everyone else in the audience. He waved a sheepish hello. 

The onlookers started whispering. “Seriously? A boy and a guy in a suit of armor? I thought it’d take an entire troop to find them.” “What’s with his attitude?” “Wait-  _ that _ ’s the Fullmetal Alchemist?” “I’m going to get his autograph~” 

The two were obviously used to being gossiped openly about. They seemed to brush off ( _ most _ ) of the remarks. 

And then there was one whisper, too loud to overlook but too quiet to point: “They’re going to get the death sentence anyway, why didn’t he kill them?” 

The soldier might have imagined it. But he was sure that the moment he heard the words, something in the boy’s face shifted. There was suddenly a dreadful age to those eyes. A tight grip in his jaw. A little less flicker in those golden irises. 

Then it passed, and he turned around to leave with his giant suit of armor of a partner. The soldier saluted silently to their backs.

***

Colonel Mustang flipped through the files. He was supposed to be looking over any security breaches in confidential information, but none of it actually comprehended. Ed had walked in that morning for a mission. And he had seemed- solemn. Mature. And Mustang couldn’t get it out of his head, that something had  _ died _ inside the boy. 

It was much too soon for him to lose what little childhood freedom he has. Most of all, it was terrifying to wonder if  _ he _ had taken it away. But at least- at least- he was still trusted. Even that, he could see in those eyes. 

The files taken lightly in his gloves, were of the incident and the association. Nojus was the mastermind of the whole thing- cleverly off-putting, had the alchemist not been so arrogant. Ed had made a scarily shadowed face when Mustang (he  _ had _ to-) told him, he and all the men under him were executed. The colonel, of course, thought nothing of it. They were criminals. The government deals with them. That was all it was to him, until he saw Ed’s expression. 

If death was so heavy on the boy- had he himself  _ numbed _ ? To the value of human life, and the cost of murder? That can’t happen. He had to stay grounded. Because,  _ what kind of Fuhrer that would make _ , he knew so well it sunk painfully into his bones. 

He flipped the page he had lightly scanned, already having forgotten the information in it. Halfway through the file something caught his eye. 

It was a series of pictures, of Nojus’s headquarters. Stacks and stacks of papers, books were everywhere- walls covered in maps, covered in strings and surrounded by dozens of pins. He turned the page. It was a gigantic personnel map centered around…  _ King Bradley?  _ And the final picture- one that would give him shudders in the future- just two pieces of paper that Lujus had hidden in his drawer. They were rough sketches, but eerie in their inked edges. The first, a pentagonal transmutation circle. And the second, a dragon-shaped figure, encircling a spiked triangle. 

He wouldn’t know for months afterwards, that it was the Ouroboros tattoo belonging to none other than the Homunculus. 

*** 

“Hey, Al.” 

“What?” 

After a full day’s work, the two brothers were resting in their dorm. Ed lay on the length of the sofa, and Al sat on the opposite side of the table between them. Both were reading, as they didn’t actually have any other ways to spend their free time. Ed couldn’t concentrate on the organic chemistry book he held in his hand. He rested it page-down on his chest, staring at the ceiling fan. 

“You know, today, I heard someone say something interesting.” 

“And what was that?” 

“They said, they wondered why we didn’t kill those men if they’re getting the death sentence anyway.” 

Al looked up from his book. Ed had on the serious expression he wore when he was deep in thought. 

“Go on.” 

“I don’t have much to say about it.” 

He wanted to ask Al what he thought; it was still hovering over his mind. A sigh filtered through the armor. Al closed his book. 

“I’m going to be frank.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” 

“I honestly don’t think what you did was wrong, Brother.” 

Ed turned, and his gaze widened at Al. He kept going. “It’s really selfish of me to say, but I’m more relieved that you and Winry are safe and alive. You don’t know how  _ scared _ I was.” Al lowered his head to his empty gloves. “I know it’s only been a month… but it’s still…  _ palpable. _ ” 

Silence strung the air for a minute, and it was cut sharply by the sound of Al’s armor turning up. 

“Of course, I’ll keep pursuing to achieve our goals without it. Nothing would be better than that if I could. But if you, or Winry, or someone important to me were to be in danger… I won’t hesitate. So no. I don’t argue with your actions.” 

Ed narrowed his eyes by a fraction- not in hate, but more like admit. He rolled over to face the back of the couch. 

“It doesn’t sit right with me. Even if it was justified. So I’m going to get stronger. So when it comes to- I won’t have to.” 

  
“I won’t  _ ever _ . Ever again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand all we have left is the epilogue. Hopefully I'll finish that for you too, soon.
> 
> Sometime in the future I'll come back to fix this terrible writing. But until then, this was all I could squeeze out of this dead and empty brain. 
> 
> Thank you so much, for reading this trash of a story. I hope I can deliver the epilogue quicker.


	17. Epilogue (sort of)

Pitter patter of small footsteps on a wooden floor. Smells of something mouthwatering and sweet, mixing with the autumn grass of Resembool. The orange sunlight casting on a photo, of someone whose spirit would never really leave. 

Being surrounded by such peacefulness, almost made Ed feel like that enormous adventure had been an eternity ago. 

Winry stood in the kitchen, their kids bursting with energy hopping around her for the apple pie she was holding. “Hey, hey- stop bouncing- I’m going to drop this!” 

Ed walked up and swiped the pie from her with ease, setting it on the table and leaving a small kiss on her forehead. Then, he turned down, picking up the boy, “You little rascal- Mom’s precious apple pie’s going to go to waste!” 

And then, he and the kids trail out of the kitchen and into the front yard in a pouting, laughing, mess. Winry pulled out some plates, and smiled as she watched her children run around in the grass. Leaving the pie to cool, she sat down next to Ed on the porch. 

She turned to see that he wore an almost melancholic expression on his face. Something almost painful, and shadowed, layered behind his happiness. Winry lay her head on his broad shoulder. “What’s wrong.” 

Ed looked down in apparent surprise. He smiled gently, but the darkness didn’t leave his eyes. “I dunno.” He gazed off into the distance. “Just thinking.” 

Winry’s round blue eyes questioned with curiosity, and Ed just laughed. “It’s nothing. It’s really not that big of a deal.” She pouted persistently, but now letting go of his shoulder. “Tell me.” 

He held his chin in his hand, back bent into the elbows on his knees. “I just…” 

“Sometimes, I just feel like I don’t deserve this.” 

Winry’s face darkened. He still dragged it. He still didn’t let go, even after such a long time of suffering. He still felt guilty, about a mistake he wished he’d never made. 

The afternoon cast the air with a deep sorrow. The grass and trees rustled, and the children’s laughter echoed, opening to them a tunnel into the much darker past. The sun’s tangerine glow against the amber sky left a clear uneasiness, anxieties for this life- what could take it away? What could happen to them? What could happen to this country? 

Ed filled his lungs with the air, and it sat heavy in his chest.  _ Did I really deserve to be her husband? Their father? His brother?  _

“Even if you thought about those things-” 

“I still chose you. And you still chose me.”

Winry’s brilliant blue eyes pierced straight into his soul. “You’re not going back on that.” 

Ed, at first appalled, paused. Then, he smiled, and chuckled. “Yeah.” 

Winry smiled back, as she stood up. She yelled, “You guys~ The pie’s cooled~” 

The children’s faces brightened, and they hastily ran through the gold-tinted grass. Bare feet climbed up the wooden stairs. “Can we put ice cream on it?” “Can we~?” 

Winry giggled and chided, “Only after you clean your feet.” 

She turned to Ed. He grinned to her, “I’ll be there.” Satisfied, she turned back to busy her hands in the kitchen.

Ed sat there for a little longer. His golden eyes hardened with solemnity. Then, they closed. 

  
It won’t leave. It won’t ever fade. But perhaps- someday- he might just become  _ okay _ with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, so, so, so much, for finishing my story. Writing this was difficult, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. And I hope you did, too. 
> 
> If you found the prompt to be interesting, and can write it better, please do! And if you can, please let me know the name of it, so I can read it (and shower you with kudos and comments~) 
> 
> Again. Thank you, so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the terrible writing (first work). 
> 
> But if you might stick around, that will mean the world to me.
> 
> Again, thank you. 
> 
> *Please leave constructive criticism if you feel compelled to do so~*


End file.
